


Under the Mountain

by bad_peppermint



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Lambliff Big Bang 2011, M/M, Mentions of non-con, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-22
Updated: 2012-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-29 22:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/325022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bad_peppermint/pseuds/bad_peppermint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a Prince of the Mountain, it is Adam's duty to leave his home for two years. Two long years to live, learn and grow into a ruler fit to lead the mountain people. But when he returns, his new-found advisers in tow, it is to find that the mountain is no longer as he left it. His brother Neil has turned into an conniving, silver-tongued little devil, the hated Greymen are knocking on their door, and then there is Tommy: Small, tough, and exactly what Adam likes in a man. But Tommy has his own burden to carry, and it is up to Adam to defend Tommy's reputation, resolve his brother's issues and make sure they don't all get killed in the process.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Lambliff_Bigbang  
> The idea for this fic was born after seeing the If I Had You music video. I wanted an Adam like that, and a society like that, and the rest just kind of happened.  
> Kudos to my awesome, fun and absolute talented artist, cassandra_ml. The art she made me is absolutely beautiful, and you should all go and check it out immediately.  
> Thank you ever so much to a_dreamwithin for being the best beta anyone could ask for, for rolling with all my ridiculous last minute requests, and for improving this story beyond belief. So much <3 - this fic would be very different, and not half as good, if it weren't for you.  
> And last but certainly not least, a huge Cheers&Thank You to i_bleed_magenta for organizing and constantly re-organizing the whole thing. It's been great fun, and I'd sign up for another Lambliff_Bigbang in a heartbeat.

  


The water from the stream was icy on Adam’s skin, and he couldn’t quite keep back a small gasp. He leaned a little farther forward, to keep the droplets from dripping from his face onto his clothing, and splashed another handful onto his eyes and cheeks. Some of the ornaments and pendants dangling from chains and leather ropes around his neck dipped into the water, but Adam didn’t mind. They’d certainly seen worse over the course of the last two years.

Two years, two long, long years, and he could hardly believe how close he was to home. The ground beneath them had been climbing steadily for some time, horses tiring more easily now that they were almost at their destination. Adam wished he could say that this short moment’s rest was for the animals, to graze and relax before the last, steep stretch, but he knew that it was he himself who needed a moment to collect himself.

Adam wasn’t a coward by any means. No one would even dare to insinuate it. No, he was a Prince of the Mountain, and the mountain bred them tough. The frail, the fragile, the vulnerable, they didn’t survive very long. And these people, the advisors, foreigners he had brought home, would thrive on the mountain, Adam was sure of it. Allison, Monte, and Isaac – as different as the seasons, and yet each one a survival artist, confident and tough as nails.

Monte’s head was cropped close – a mark of those in mourning, Adam had learned. He didn’t fill the air with needless chatter. It didn’t bother Adam; he did enough of that for the both of them. But when Monte did speak, he said useful things. He knew how to read the wind and the trees, he knew when to let his sword rest and when to send it singing into another man’s flesh. Most importantly, however, Monte was patient with Adam. He understood the importance of appearance, knew that sometimes it wasn’t simply vanity to be concerned about looks. Knew that sometimes, it was about other people more so than oneself.

Isaac, on the other hand, had no such understanding. He’d plucked an apple from a tree somewhere, firm and ripe, or maybe snaked it from a vendor that morning when they’d passed through town, who knew.Now, here, he made a point of eating it noisily, crunching the crisp fruit between his teeth, probably to remind Adam of the tales he had spun about the feasts, the glorious food they had under the mountain. It was the sort of thing he’d do. The ends of the colorful scarf he had tied around his forehead to keep the hair from falling into his eyes whipped around in the sharp breeze, but Isaac didn’t seem to notice.

He leaned against a boulder next to Monte, keeping an idle eye on the horses, while Allison sat perched on top, eyes drifting across the barren, bitter landscape.

Allison, Adam knew the most about. He knew that she was exiled from her village for refusing to name her secret lover, and later abandoned by that same man who refused to leave the comfort of his home for the woman who had given up everything for him. The fool had been blind to how precious that kind of loyalty was. Adam was not.

He scrubbed his hand over his forehead, trying to wash away the grime from his skin without smearing the color around his eyes. He wished the stream was still enough that he could see his own reflection, but here, this far up, it was fed year-round by the melting ice covering the distant mountaintops. It never remained still for long.

He startled backwards when the sad remains of an apple core hit the ground no two hand lengths from where he crouched and tumbled into the water, disturbing the stream even further.

“Take your time, Princess,” Isaac called.

Adam’s only response was a rude gesture thrown over his shoulder. Isaac, as far as he could tell, was the least damaged of the bunch; a second son, he’d left his parents’ farm when famine years threatened the survival of a too-large family. His relatives were well, his home open to him should he wish to return, so naturally, he was the most cynical, stubborn, sarcastic man Adam had ever met.

He did not even know which part of Isaac’s prickly nature appealed to him so much.Or perhaps it was Isaac’s sweet side, which the man would never admit to; his artistry, his vision. He had made two leather armbands for Adam in exchange for an escort through a dangerous stretch of forest, both black with depictions of intricate flowers and trees, laced up at the wrist. He had completed the work with Adam watching over his shoulder, both taking no more than half a morning, and yet Adam had found himself completely captivated by the man and his talent.

But maybe it was that, then, that was the problem – he was fascinated by Isaac, tended to forget that he was unused to the ways of Adam’s people. He couldn’t expect the man to understand how important it was for Adam to return as a triumphant warrior prince, proud and strong, and not as a dusty, weary straggler.

“I’m hungry,” Allison said, kicking her legs against the trunk of the tree. She wasn’t whining, Adam knew; she just liked to share whatever popped into her head. Still, he dunked his hair into the frigid stream, tossed it back in a water-soaked arc that had both Monte and Isaac exclaiming in protest, and got to his feet.

“It’s not far, now,” he said. “We’ll get there soon enough.”

And they did. The sun had barely moved in the sky when the ground beneath their feet began to rise sharply. Adam rode ahead, guiding his horse along the difficult path, carefully watching the hooves as they moved through the first autumn leaves.

“Adam,” he heard Allison call behind him, but he didn’t turn. He knew what she wanted to say – that this could impossibly be the right way because the path ended where sheer rock began. Most travellers thought so. They were meant to think so.

He pulled lightly on the reins and vaulted off his horse, pulled off his heavy gloves and ran his fingertips along the stone, searching.

His friends didn’t bother to dismount, or perhaps they were simply too confused. Adam didn’t care much either way.

“Adam, this is a rock,” Isaac said.

Adam grinned at him over his shoulder, wild and feral, he knew. “This is no rock,” he said. His fingertips settled on the mark worn into the stone, an eye with a pupil thinly cut like a cat’s. “This is the mountain.”

He could tell from Isaac’s silence that the man wasn’t impressed, but even Adam had to admit that there was nothing to be impressed by yet. To a stranger, it would look like nothing but sheer rock face, rising tall and impenetrable from the barren ground. Above it were tough green weeds and trees clinging to the side of a mountain ridge that climbed fast and high, impossible to cross unless you knew which paths and passes to take. Not many knew the way, and even less of the ones who attempted a crossing ever returned.

But Adam knew what to look for. There was a rocky outcrop perhaps half of the way up, no more than a natural formation that would eventually be worn down by wind and rain. There was a gaping wound in the rock underneath, wide enough for two grown men to stand side by side. It was where Adam had last seen his mother and his father and his brother, watching him ride out into an uncertain future.

He’d been so different then.

Still, the thought of seeing his family, his people, again, quickened Adam’s heart. He balled his hand into a tight fist and smashed it against the rock face, where he knew the cracks and crevices in the stone would allow the sound to carry upwards, alert the others to his presence.

“I demand entrance,” he thundered.

There was only quiet, not even the sound of birds chirping in alarm. Isaac’s horse nickered quietly and Adam saw the man calm her with a hand to her neck, but even he didn’t seem to dare break the silence.

And then a face appeared, halfway up the rock face, a young man with a suspicious frown. Could it really be Gareth? When had he gotten to be old enough to be a guard?

“Gareth.” Adam could barely hide his delight. “It’s good to see you.”

The boy frowned at him. “Identify yourself,” he said, voice sharp but face dawning with realization.

“It’s Adam. Your prince, Gareth,” he called upwards. “As you damn well know. Let us in.”

A moment later, a second face appeared underneath the outcrop. It was an older man, with a scraggly beard that he hadn’t had at Adam’s departure, but Adam recognized him nonetheless.

“Marcus,” he called. “It’s me, I’ve returned.Let us in!”

Marcus said something, quietly, to Gareth who flushed a bright red and scuttled away, before the man turned back to Adam and his companions. “We’ve been expecting you, boy!” he called back, face splitting into a mangle-toothed grin. “Adam. We thought you might have died. It’s been a long time.”

“Like I would give you the satisfaction,” Adam retorted. “I’m alive and well and found myself my advisors. My Wandering is complete.”

“Your parents will be pleased to hear,” was the reply. “Go on, get down there, we’ll meet you there.”

Adam lifted his hand in reply. He swung himself up on his horse and gestured for his companions to follow. He lead them along the rock face, a few minutes ride before they reached a crack in the wall, so narrow a horse could barely squeeze through, the remains of a rockslide covering the rest.

Adam was through first, on foot again, despite Monte’s disapprovingly narrowed eyes. Monte was careful, and that was good, but this was Adam’s home. There was nothing he knew better than these rocks.

His horse hesitated a little when he leadher forward but she came, following him into the dark corridor beyond with a nervous whicker. After a few seconds in which he shuffled forward blindly, he could hear the telltale footsteps and hoof sounds of the others following.

“Are you sure this is the right way?” Allison asked somewhere behind him. Her voice was distorted ever so faintly by the tunnel’s structure.

Adam had to laugh. “Fairly sure, yes.”

Allison drew breath to say something else, but then Adam took the last few upward steps and found himself saying, almost involuntarily, “We’re here.”

He was the first out of the tunnel – had he always had to duck his head to avoid splitting it open on the rock? – and stepped into the clearing. He had grown up with this, this enclosed garden that blossomed in what was little more than a crack in the rock face, twenty paces wide and maybe thirty long from end to end. There were two trees, small and bare of fruit, a few bushes and even a small creak that bubbled up from the rock on one side and disappeared underneath it again on the other. He had grown up with it, thought it nothing special, but his companions’ quiet gasps reminded him that maybe it was.

There was a large overhang on one side, shielding one old and two young horses from the weather, and from it Marcus emerged with another young man – Jeffrey? Jeremy? – in tow. Before Adam had had a chance to compose himself, he found himself wrapped up in a forceful hug.

“Adam, my boy!” Marcus said loudly. He snapped his fingers at the boy hovering uncertainly behind him. “Go on, boy! Get their horses.”

His companions insisted they help, of course, and it wasn’t long until all four animals were scrubbed dry with straw and their saddles stored in a large wooden crate. Marcus picked up two lit lanterns from the ground and, handing one to Adam, motioned them deeper under the overhang.

Adam could hear his companions stifle their surprise when they crowded close only to find another walkway leading up into the rock, climbing steeply. It was not an easy walk. The lanterns were small, their light dim, and the ground was uneven and rough. Several times, everyone in their party except Allison had to duck their heads to avoid smashing them open on raggedy ceilings. Cracks and crevices opened to the left, right and above, sometimes even in the ground, some no bigger than a finger, others big enough to fit a small child. Hearing Monte quietly mutter a prayer, Adam had to stifle a grin. Sometimes, he couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that the rock had not yet come down on them all.

They walked for another few short minutes before they reached the busier caverns, where children washed their clothing and men and women wove baskets and tanned leather. Most stopped their activities to stare, some had smiles and greetings for Adam, but Adam was still caught on how _small_ everything was.

In his memories, the halls of the mountain had been vast and endless, a labyrinth of corridors to navigate and lose yourself in. Now, his steps seemed to carry him farther than before, or maybe the halls had shrunk in his absence. Had it really always been only a few short strides from their main hall over to the crevice where mothers watched over their squabbling children? The path had seemed endless when Adam had left his home barely two years ago.

He felt Allison’s hand on his arm and smiled down at her. “What do you think?” he asked.

“It’s amazing,” she breathed, and Adam had to chuckle at her wide-eyed wonder.

“I can’t believe it. It’s like a city built into the rock.”

“Most of these caves are naturally formed,” Adam told her, freeing his arm from her grasp and slinging it over her shoulders instead. “We’ve only expanded on them here and there.”

“Amazing,” she whispered again.

Adam grinned. “You saw the creek outside, didn’t you?” he asked. At her nod, he gestured into one of the caverns they passed, at the water gushing through it. He laughed when she stared in amazement, tugged her into another corridor, leaving Marcus and his boy waiting with a nod, glanced behind him to make sure Isaac and Monte were still following behind.

Another few turns and they had arrived at the cavern Adam had used to call his own, before his departure. No one had dared take it, it seemed, despite the two long years that had passed, and he gestured at his friends to drop their things by the stack of furs and blankets that lay piled against one wall.

Allison stretched in delight, lifting her hand to one of the cracks in the ceiling. “It’s cold,” she said, surprised, not complaining.

Adam nodded. He gestured upwards, towards a crack in the stone above them, stark contrast against the light rock. “Warm air is bad air,” he said. “The colder the air, the cleaner it is.” He crossed his legs and sank down on his pallet. The other four followed his example after a moment, forming a tight circle, and Adam set the lantern down between them.

“These always burn,” he said. “They give light, yes, but they also stay ablaze to keep us alive.”

At the blank looks on his companions’ faces, he smiled a little, opened the catch and carefully broke the candle from its base. He twisted around to drip hot wax onto a rocky outcrop behind him and pressed the bottom of the candle into the mess, securing it against the rock.

“When the air is clean like this, when it comes straight from the outside, the candle will flicker, but it burns bright. When the air is used up and old, the flame grows small. Don’t ever let a candle die – it’s dangerous, and there’s no natural light here to guide your way.”

Three heads nodded their understanding; Adam smiled, but he knew they wouldn’t fully grasp what he meant until they had first woken up terrified, expecting to see the gleam of stars above them and instead finding nothing.

“So what now?” Allison asked when the silence stretched just past the point of being comfortable.

“Now.” Adam smiled at them all. “How would you like to meet the king and queen?”

  


By the time they had reached the council hall, Adam and his friends had managed to amass quite a following. News of the oldest prince’s return seemed to have spread like wildfire, and men, women and children stood gathered in the walkways, calling out greetings or reaching out to grasp Adam’s hand.

The king and queen, Adam’s parents, were seated on the throne carved into the rock at one end of the hall. There was no doubt that they had heard of his arrival, not the way they watched the entrance intently, but they did not rise until Adam pushed before them and bowed, deeply and respectfully.

“My King,” he said. “My Queen.”

His father’s hug was impossibly tight and would likely have gone on forever if his mother hadn’t stepped in, pushed between them and wrapped him up in a hug as well. She had tears in her eyes when she pulled away, pressed a hand to his cheek.

“You’re back,” she whispered.

Adam nodded.

His father beamed at him, tearless. He pressed a hard kiss to Adam’s forehead. “Your days of Wandering are over, my son,” he said, and Adam felt his throat grow tight.

It was a rite of passage and he had performed admirably, he knew that, but seeing the pride spread across his father’s face still made something skip in his chest.

The king turned, waved someone in the group forward. “Neil, come greet your brother.”

Adam looked up just as Neil took a hesitant step forward.Two years ago, Neil had been scrawny and sharp, barely more than a boy despite the quickness of his tongue.He was still the shorter of the two of them, Adam noted with some satisfaction, but there was no doubt now that Neil was fast becoming a man.

Adam could only hope that he would.

He and Neil were the only surviving of their parents’ children, and Neil had yet to go Wandering. Who knew what would happen to him during the two years he had to spend away – maybe he’d fall sick, or injure himself, or fall in love with a pretty girl somewhere and decide to stay. Life on the mountain was harsh, and it wasn’t hard to conceive that someone would decide not to go back. Adam had to admit that even he had been tempted once or twice, but in the end, he would never give up the mountain – he had been raised by it, and it was a part of him. He would never be able to leave it behind.

Maybe his melancholy was reflected on his face, or maybe it was something else, but a few feet away, Neil’s steps faltered. “Welcome,” he said, voice inflectionless, face uncertain.

Adam couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Two years, and this is the greeting I get?” he asked, closing the distance between them and enveloping his brother in a hug. After a long moment, he felt Neil relax into it.

“Welcome,” he whispered again.

“It’s good to see you,” Adam replied, just as quietly.

Then he extracted himself, took a step back. “My King, my Queen – my people,” he said, ushering his friends forward. “May I present my companions: Allison,” a radiant if nervous smile,” Isaac,” a wave, “and Monte,” a formal bow.

“Welcome,” Adam’s mother said, smiling brightly.

“Welcome,” his father echoed. He bowed formally. “I hope you will advise my son well.”

“I have no doubt that they will,” Adam said with a smile.He took a step back, startling when his father seized his hand. When he tried to tug it away, his father’s grip only tightened.

“It’s alright, Father,” he said. “I’ll leave you to your council. We’ll talk tonight.”

His father shook his head. “You’ve only just returned to us, Adam,” he said. “The council can wait until tomorrow.”

“You know it can’t.” Adam folded his free hand over his father’s. “I promise I will see you tonight. But for now, you have a council to hold and my companions are weary from traveling.”

His father nodded, albeit reluctantly, but instead of letting go, he drew Adam in for another hug. “It’s good to have you back, son,” he whispered in Adam’s ear, and Adam couldn’t help but murmur back the same.

  


If Adam hadn’t seen it happen so many times, it would have been hard to believe that the council hall during his parents’ meetings was the same room as during the new moon feast that night. The cavern was filled wall to wall with people of all ages and sizes. There were drummers, dancers and musicians, storytellers. There was food and drink. Children, cats, and dogs were underfoot wherever they turned, and Adam saved himself to one wall, dragging his companions with him.

“I refuse to sing,” Isaac announced from his place at Adam’s side, which Adam thought to be a rather wise decision. The other man had a knack for instruments, for melodies, for comedic timing, but his voice was rather gruff.

Most of the mountain people sang well – heritage, perhaps, but more likely that they all began early, did it all their lives. In the long, cold winter months, there wasn’t much else to occupy their time.

This time, however, when the singing began to take precedence over the dancing, he made his way over to the seat his parents used as a throne to talk to both of them. He told them about his travels, which he promised to also do for anyone who wanted to hear, at some later date. He asked about their lives, let them touch him to their hearts’ content. By the time everything was said, he had talked himself hoarse, and when his parents finally let him be for a moment, he allowed himself to lean back and let his gaze sweep over the crowd.

There weren’t many foreigners among his people, not many he didn’t know. Some of them he didn’t recognize if they’d grown up too fast or aged too poorly, but he knew the names and faces of all but a few. The children, he doubted he would be able to name. There were so many, and all of them had changed so much, that Adam felt as though it would be years before he once again felt comfortable naming them all.

He amused himself for a while, trying to guess which name from his memory belonged to which new face, but grew weary of it when he began to remember the names and faces of the people he had met while away instead, men and women and children that had never even seen the mountain from a distance suddenly grinning at him in the halls. He scoffed, looked around for someone to bring him another mug of something strong, when a shock of hair, the color of straw amidst a mass of browns and blacks, caught his attention.

He’d seen men and women change the color of their hair while he was travelling, seen them sap all color from it or add dyes until they looked as colorful as a field of flowers. The small man’s sun-golden hair was positively plain in comparison, but Adam knew he would have been fascinated by it a few years ago.

And while it was certainly the man’s most noticeable feature, it wasn’t the only interesting thing about him.He was a hunter, that much was obvious. Above the plain, grey tunic that fell partly down his thighs, laced at the throat and cinched at the waist with several rounds of a long strip of braided leather, he wore a jacket patched together from many different types of animal hide – leathery and tough on the outside, but Adam could see the tufts of grey, black and golden fur peak out along the collar from where he sat. A curved predator’s tooth dangled from one earlobe, brightly colored feathers from the other.

He had his sight set firmly on a group of giggling young women around Adam’s age, so Adam had ample opportunity to stare, unabashed. Adam’s boots reached up to his knees, and they were sturdy – light enough to move easily, but designed to protect against sharp rocks from below and wayward hooves from above. The other man’s looked like nothing more than strips of supple leather climbing halfway up his calves – thin soles that allowed him to feel every twig and leaf, silent and deadly.

He was focused, too, the way Adam expected a hunter to be, eyes fixed on the dancers twirling around the open space left clear in the middle of the hall. Adam tried to make out who he was following so avidly with his gaze, but couldn’t – His eyes seemed to skit from one girl to another, fixing each one with a heavy look, but there was something intent in his gaze that said he had already chosen a favorite.

Adam oughtn’t to have been surprised that it was one of the dancer girls. They were pretty and feisty, the lot of them, and the hunter was bound to have developed an attachment to at least one of them.

The prince turned his gaze away and let his eyes drift over the rest of the assembly.

There was another person he didn’t know, a small, dark woman with two unsteady children curling their fists into the leather of her hunting garments. She turned her head away when he smiled at her, and Adam took this, however obscurely, as a sign. As permission.

He laid a hand on his father’s arm who turned immediately, face lighting up in a smile that made Adam’s heart soften. It must have been hard for his parents to have a son out there and not know if he would ever return – know that if he had died somewhere on the road, they would never learn of it.

“Anything you need, son?” his father asked, and Adam shook his head.

“Some answers, Father,” he said.

The king gestured for him to carry on, and Adam shifted a little closer, pointing out the leather-clad woman. “The huntress, over there. Who is she?”

“That’s Sasha,” his father said without hesitation. “Her children are Elia and Lianne. She came to us the spring before last, I believe. Our hunters found her in the forest. She was traveling towards the seaboard after her husband had died.”He laid his hand over Adam’s thigh. “She’s made it quite clear that she doesn’t want another, I’m afraid.”

Well. She wasn’t the reason Adam was asking, after all. Instead, he gestured towards the blond-haired man, allowing his father to follow the line of his arm. “What about him?”

His father kept his eyes on the crowd for a moment. “Oh. Tommy,” he said, and Adam whispered the name to himself simply to test out how it felt on his tongue.

 _Tommy._

“A mountain runner,” his father said. “He came seeking asylum when his family was killed.”

A mountain runner. Adam had heard of them, briefly –a prince of the mountain had to know about all creatures they shared it with, be they mountain goats or people who lived as though they were. Runners clung to the hillside like spiders, carving their homes into the rock face up where the plains people could barely breathe. They were hunters, often archers, small and tough and unpleasant to strangers. They had no desire for community. They lived in small families that stayed well clear of one another, claiming territories so big you could scarcely see from one end to the other, but they could occasionally be coaxed into leading caravans across the mountain, for the right price, and only in the summer.

“What happened to them?” Adam asked, because runners were fighters and they knew the mountains too well to fall prey to its treacheries. There was no way they could have been caught off-guard by a rockslide or an unexpected storm.

His father turned his head to give him a look. “Slaughtered, he says. Says when he returned from his hunt, it was to find traces of riders, many of them, with his mother and father felled where they stood and his sister dead with her dagger still in her hand.”

Adam nodded, his eyes once again finding Tommy across the room. “Has he hunted for them?”

“All summer.” His father covered Adam’s hand with his own. “But you know how runners are. The dead are dead, and the living go on living.”

“When did he come here?” Adam asked. If Tommy had been hiding himself away here while Adam was out seeing and tasting everything the world had to offer, he was going to be extremely displeased.

“Around summer solstice,” his father replied after a moment. “Perhaps since the new moon feast before. No earlier than that.”

Not too long, then. He would likely still feel like a stranger, like a solitary man lost in a crowd of weather-beaten faces.

Adam was still deep in contemplation when the king got to his feet.

“You’ll forgive me,” his father said when a hush fell over the crowd, inclining his head. “It’s late, and the day has been full of excitement. Our oldest son has been returned to us. My wife and I will retire to our beds and rejoice in private.”

Adam bowed his head like the others did when his parents departed hand in hand. There was some tittering afterwards, some people deciding to leave as well, others electing to stay. It took a few moments before Adam found the pale-haired man in the crowd again, but rather than on the girls, Tommy’s attention was fixed on Adam now. His gaze was heavy and hot, so dark Adam thought he could feel it prickling against his skin, and when he saw Adam looking, he didn’t avert his eyes – he smiled.

Adam crooked his finger at him and he came, weaving his way through the throngs of people. Adam lost sight of him for a moment when a young pretty girl offered him a plate of fruit. He took an apple and nodded his thanks, and then Tommy was at his elbow, dipping into a bow.

“My Lord Adam,” he said.

Adam grinned. He leaned away from Tommy, against the other armrest, and allowed his legs to sprawl.

“You know who I am,” he said.

Tommy clasped his hands before his body, but while the gesture might have looked demure on anyone else, on him it looked slightly mocking. “Everyone knows who you are, my Lord Adam,” he said. “It has been trumpeted from every treetop all day.”

“Do you always speak to people this way?” Adam asked mildly.

Tommy returned his steady gaze with a smile. “Usually, yes,” he said. He hesitated. “You’ll find that mountain runners are not known for their manners, my Lord.”

Adam let his hand drift over and lightly tugged on the bottom hem of Tommy’s tunic. “Neither are the people of the mountain, if you take stock in plains people’s gossip.”

Tommy tilted his head to the side. “Yes.” The corners of his mouth quirked upwards. “But then again, who gives a damn what the plains people think?”

Adam inclined his head in acknowledgement. He looked down at the apple in his hand, polished it with the cuff of his tunic.

When he glanced up, Tommy’s eyes were fixed on his fingers. Smiling lightly, he offered the fruit to the other man, who reached out to take it before he hesitated, eyes flitting to Adam’s.

“We’ll share it,” Adam offered, pulling a small but sharp knife from his belt. He nodded at the arm the chair. “Sit,” he said. “Entertain me a moment.”

“Whatever you wish, my Lord,” Tommy said, but it did not come out as sarcastically as might have been intended.

Adam let his legs slide to the floor, and a moment later, Tommy sat perched on the ledge carved into the rock, his feet sliding easily between Adam’s thighs. The leather covering his skin was too thick for there to be any heat, but Adam could still feel the outline of his feet, small yet broad, against the fabric of his pants.

He cut into the apple slowly, juices trickling over his fingers, from two angles. The first piece he slipped into his own mouth, feeling Tommy’s eyes on him with every movement, the second he held out for Tommy to take, giving him the option of pulling it from the knife’s blade with his teeth or plucking it off with his fingers.

Still, he felt the familiar stirring of want low in his belly when Tommy chose the former option, pink lips tightening around the apple’s yellow flesh.

“It’s sour,” Tommy said, when he had finished his slice, the rest of the apple forgotten in Adam’s hands.

“It’s early yet, for apples,” Adam said. “They’ll grow riper still.”

“I hope so,” Tommy murmured, but Adam was no longer interested in the topic.

“Have you sworn your allegiance?” he asked, eyes fixed on Tommy’s face, watching him for a flicker of deceit, but the other man shook his head.

“There aren’t many asking allegiance from a mountain runner,” he said.

“That’s their mistake.” Adam slipped his fingers into Tommy’s hair, watched the other man lean into his palm. “I would have yours,” he said. “If you would offer it.”

Tommy smiled slowly. He uncurled Adam’s fingers and guided them downwards to rest against Tommy’s cheek. “Ask me again in a month,” he said. “If you still want me then.”

With those words, he slipped from the seat’s arm, plucked the apple from Adam’s limp fingers, and disappeared into the crowd.

  


It wasn’t long before most of the crowd had cleared. Adam was not surprised when his companions came to find him fairly quickly after Tommy had left. Allison was the first, curling under Adam’s arm while he talked with a woman who had chosen a seat nearby to rest. Her name was Stacy, he recalled. He remembered that she had had sunburn on her nose the day he had left. She was younger than Adam, but a guardswoman now, her stomach swollen and round. She was resting because her child’s ceaseless kicking wore her down.

She took her leave when Monte appeared at Adam’s side, weary-eyed but alert, hand resting on the handle of his short-sword like it always did. Isaac took the longest. Adam thought he might have been making eyes at Sophia, one of the women seated at the hearth to dole out food and drink, but when Isaac finally found his way over, his face betrayed nothing.

“Shall we sleep?” Adam asked, nudging Allison whose eyes were fluttering closed.

She nodded in agreement, finding enough energy to right herself and stumble after Adam from the hall, Monte and Isaac bringing up the rear. Adam called several goodbyes but didn’t stop until they had reached the small cavern that had once been his. Someone had brought in more furs and blankets that laid out on the floor in invitation.

Isaac wasted no time bedding down at the entrance, knife in hand, and Adam rolled his eyes in Allison’s direction when she settled down next to him.

“You’ll keep me warm tonight, won’t you?” she asked with a hopeful little smile.

Adam smiled at her. “Of course I will,” he said. He ran a hand over her hair, smoothing back the wayward strands. “Don’t ever doubt that.”

He stayed awake long enough to watch Monte light the candles and crawl into his own bedding, settling down between Adam and the wall. _Tommy_ , he thought, no more than a flicker in his mind before he slept, but he couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like if it was the smaller man he had in his arms.

  


Adam was the first to regain consciousness, the others not as attuned as he was to the sounds of the mountain stirring awake. He lay quietly, eyes fixed on the colorful strands in Allison’s hair, remembering what had occurred the night before.

Only his reluctance to wake the girl in his arms kept him from covering his eyes with his hand. An idiot was what he was. He couldn’t believe he had asked Tommy to be a part of his inner circle based on looks and half a conversation. He’d likely cause enough of a stir as it was, bringing three foreigners with him instead of the usual one or two. Mountain people valued outsiders, expected their princes and princesses to bring with them a foreigner from Wandering that kept their minds sharp and their views fresh, but there was a difference between asking for an outside opinion and flooding the halls with foreigners.

Thoughts spinning round and round, Adam did finally extract himself from Allison, letting her sink into the bedding with a sigh. He dressed quietly, taking his boots outside with him, and snuck away to the council hall and the promise of breakfast.

There were only a few people around, Adam guessed most of them were already hard at work, and it wasn’t long before he was handed a bowl of oats and warm milk, with a generous helping of fresh berries. Adam looked up in surprise, and the woman who had served him, Ginger, gave him a wink.

“Welcome back, Prince Adam,” she said.

She waved off his thanks and moved on to someone else, and Adam set off to devour the food she had given him.

He had barely pushed the bowl aside when a hand fell on his shoulder.

“Look who’s finally awake!” Neil dropped down at his side, a grin splitting his face. “I’ve been up since dawn, and you’ve only just found your way out of bed?” He clasped a mock-conciliatory hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Brother, I’m afraid your years of Wandering have made you weak.”

Adam snorted. Neil’s words couldn’t be farther from the truth, but at least the impish gleam in his eyes assured Adam that he wasn’t actually serious.

He threw his arm out, too quickly for Neil to have any chance of defending himself. The younger boy kicked and squirmed, but his face was red with laughter by the time Adam had managed to pin him to the ground.

“I think you’ll find,” Adam said, grinning down at him, “that I’ve grown rather tough.”

“Tough like dried meat after a long winter,” Neil said. He kicked his legs, grunting when Adam easily immobilized them with his own. “And you smell just as unpleasant.”

“You little brat.” Adam couldn’t help but laugh. “Maybe I ought to take a dip in the stream, then,” he said. He dug his fingers into his brother’s ribs, finding the ticklish spots easily despite the time that had passed. “Take you with me?”

“No!” Neil cried out.

“No,” someone agreed, and they both tilted their heads back to find their mother standing over them, an empty basket tucked under one arm.

“Unfortunately,” she said, “Neil has a task assigned this morning. And you, Adam, ought to look in on your advisors. See if they’d like some breakfast.”

“Yes, my Queen.” Adam pushed himself up from his seat on Neil’s chest, pulled his brother to his feet.

Neil immediately went for Adam’s ribs himself, but the elder slapped his hand away.

“Hush,” he said, not unkindly. “You heard the queen. We can talk more later.”

“Promise?” Neil asked. His lips curved into a smile, but his eyes were honest, strands of hair falling into his forehead, and he looked so _young_ standing there that Adam felt his heart clench.

“I promise,” he said. He gave Neil a light push. “Go on, do your duty.”

“I’m going,” Neil said, taking the basket from their mother, mock-scowling over his shoulder as he went, and Adam couldn’t help but laugh at his antics.

  


When he returned to the cavern in which he and his companions had bedded down, the only one still curled up under the covers was Allison, who burrowed away from his gentle hand.

“Where are the others?” he asked her.

“Outside, I think.” Her voice was muffled in the bedding. “Said you should join them.”

Adam smoothed down a few tangled strands of her hair and left her to her rest.

  


It wasn’t hard to find them. The moment he stepped out of the tunnel into the autumn-sharp sunlight, he heard the sharp, sudden clash of two blades meeting mid-air.

They had attracted a small audience to their practice ground, a patch of grass swept free of fallen leaves. A handful of children stood gathered a safe distance away, the youngest staring openly, the older ones sneaking furtive glances at the two fighters while they sorted through their baskets full of collected nuts and berries.

Isaac and Monte broke apart when they saw him approach, both men raising a hand in greeting. Isaac had stripped to the waist, chest glistening with sweat, his familiar scarf keeping his hair from falling into his eyes.

Monte still wore a light tunic but it, too, was soaked – stained dark at his throat and along his back. He shifted his sword from his left to his right hand and grinned.“You against the two of us?” he offered. “How about it, Adam? Feeling up to a challenge?”

Isaac grinned as well from where he had knelt down to take a swig from his water skin, revealing two rows of sharp, even teeth. He turned to the cluster of children. “Wouldn’t you like to see Prince Adam fight?”

A ragged cheer rose between them, startling away a nearby bird, and Adam rolled his eyes. He stripped off his outer tunic, leaving the one underneath safely in place, rid himself of his scabbard and stepped into the makeshift ring, his sword in his hand. He kept his eyes on the two men when they turned towards him.

They were both good fighters, despite their differences: Isaac was skinny and lanky, using his superior height and reach to overpower an opponent before the other could reach him. Broad, stocky Monte relied on his strength, throwing his body weight into every blow he delivered. Adam had fought both of them countless times, sometimes in jest, sometimes just crossing the border into serious, but he knew better than to underestimate either of them.

Isaac was the first to move, predictably. Monte preferred to observe an opponent before engaging him, so Adam parried Isaac’s sword once, twice, before he sidestepped the blow Monte aimed at his back. He ducked out of Isaac’s reach and aimed an elbow at Monte’s side, laughing when Monte scowled.

His amusement died quickly when he turned, only catching sight of the sword aimed at his side when it was already too late. Isaac’s blade curved upwards at the last possible moment, its impact with Adam’s own sword rattling his bones, and Monte clucked his tongue.

“Watch your left,” he called over.

Adam nodded, scowling. Despite his many years of fighting, he had yet to learn to keep his left elbow down, his vulnerable side protected. It rankled him, and his friends knew better than to tease him about it, only drawing attention to it when he might have gotten himself killed.

“That’s right, Adam,” Isaac insisted dramatically. “You need to step up your game. My three year old cousin could beat you.” He flapped his hand at himself and Monte, dismissing them as opponents, and startling a chuckle out of Adam.

This was how he had first encountered Isaac, prize fighting for the entertainment of a handful of farmers in exchange for food and a bed for the night. They hadn’t become friends until their paths crossed again, until Adam had already met Monte and Allison, but even then, even while fighting, Isaac’s sharp tongue had made him laugh.

He nodded to his friends, his good humor mostly restored, and allowed himself to get lost in the movements, thrust and parry, thrust and parry, sidestepping where he could and blocking where he couldn’t. He forgot about his growling stomach, about the late summer sun beating down on his arms and no doubt littering him with freckles, about the ache in his muscles. His entire focus was on his sword, on his opponents, on keeping his body moving.

“Tommy, let’s go,” someone said.

Adam felt the words like a jolt to his spine. He signaled a rest and turned, gaze immediately finding the pale head among the watchers. Tommy stood a little to the back, bow slung over his shoulder, lips parted and a flush high on his cheeks, the image enough to have Adam’s labored breathing hitch a little.

He colored even more strongly when Adam caught him looking, dropping his eyes to avoid the prince’s attention.

“Tommy.”

It was Sasha the foreign hunter who had spoken, her hands tight on the bow in her hands. Tommy ducked his head but he didn’t move, stood transfixed between the trees without taking his eyes off Adam. A bow and a quiver of arrows were slung over his shoulder. Another hunter, an older woman called Ona, stood impatiently a little further away. Adam had no doubt they were off to check the traps that kept the mountain in supply of meat to dry for the winter.

Everyone who lived under the mountain knew how to hunt, of course, knew how to keep him- or herself alive, but some were more suited for it than others. Just like Cassidy was known for his skill with the needle, so Ona and apparently Tommy and Sasha were in demand for their skill with a bow and arrow. They were the ones who provided the skinny rabbits and the tough deer that helped them survive the cold season, huddled together in caverns lined with frost.

And here was Tommy, waylaid from such an important task by the sight of Adam, swinging a sword. The thought had something pleasantly warm uncurling in Adam’s belly, and he smiled.

Sasha, on the other hand, looked less than content, short bow tapping against her thigh. “Come on, Tommy,” she insisted. “If we want meat tonight, we need to be on our way.”

“Yeah, Tommy, come on.” That was Neil, emerging from the trees with three basket-laden children in tow, no doubt charged with overseeing their efforts. The smile he gave Tommy was all teeth. “You lusting after our Prince won’t satisfy anyone’s hunger. Not that way, at least.”

Where Tommy had been reddening before, he now turned pale, quickly heading for the trees without making eye contact, with nothing more than a muttered “Come on, Sash.”

Adam watched the light shock of hair fade into the undergrowth before he turned his attention on his brother. “Neil,” he sighed.

Neil shrugged, unrepentant. “If he wants to live underneath the Mountain, he needs to pull his weight like the rest of us.”

Adam let his face show his disapproval. “I hope you plan on working especially hard this harvest season, to lead by example.” He eyed the girl at Neil’s side, clutching a bulging basket, and his brother’s empty hands.

Neil rolled his eyes but kept his mouth wisely shut even as he jerked the basket out of the girl’s hands and hefted it under his arm. He muttered something under his breath as he stalked away, too quietly for Adam to hear, and there was nothing for Adam to do but turn and face his companions once again.

  


He was sharpening weapons with Isaac, the rhythmic slide of metal against rock soothing to his frazzled nerves, when Stacy come to a breathless stop in front of him.

“There’s something going on in the council hall,” she said.

Adam cast a look at Isaac who motioned for him to go, and he left.

There were several people crowded around the hall’s entrance, though not as many as he had expected, and he managed to push through with little trouble. Inside, he found his father’s war council as well as Neil. Tommy, Sasha, and Ona stood against the wall, still in hunting leathers, their expressions tight.

Monte stood waiting towards the back of the hall, and Adam slipped into place next to him. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Monte shook his head, tilting it towards Adam's mother and father who still stared at the three hunters with stony expressions.

"Father?" Adam asked, taking a step forward. "Mother? What's wrong?"

His father turned to fix him with a serious look. “Greymen,” he said, and the word alone was enough to send a cold dread creeping up Adam’s spine.

Greymen. For as long as Adam could remember, he had heard the word spoken like the plague. They ravaged the forest like wildfire, like pests, taking whatever they could and giving nothing back. They cheated, stole, lied. They thought their women too weak to fight, and yet they left them on their own, undefended, while they pillaged and plundered their way across the foothills.

“Greymen?” Monte echoed behind him.

The king caught the question and scoffed. “Wandering nomads. Parasites that cling to the mountain, feast on others’ hard work. For years now, they have tried to cross to the other side of the mountain in search of riches, wreaking havoc there as they do here.”

Monte nodded, took a quiet step back, but Adam could still feel his easy presence.

He took a steadying breath. “Here?”

His father nodded towards the three hunters waiting along the wall. “They all say the same thing: riders, on horses, coming our way.”

"Where?" Adam asked, turning towards the three himself.

"Out by the ridge," Sasha said. She raised her eyebrows. "There _were_ Greymen," she insisted.

"Several," Tommy added. "They were searching for something."

"Something?"

Tommy rolled his eyes at Adam’s question. "Something like the entrance to an underground city, something."

“They won’t find it,” Neil said, utterly self-assured, and Adam found himself giving him the same disbelieving look that he could see on Tommy’s face.

“What makes you so sure?” Adam asked, stepping forward.

Emotions flickered across Neil’s face – surprise, distaste, something like betrayal – before it finally settled into a blank mask. “They won’t. They never found us before, and they never will.”

“They’ve never been this far south,” Adam reminded him. He looked to his father in confirmation, who nodded. “When I left to go Wandering, they had never even been south of the Black River.”

“They’ve grown more insistent, more ruthless,” his mother said. She turned towards Adam, mouth set into a firm line. “Do you remember that settlement of plains people where the Black River and the Green River meet?”

“Of course he does, Mother,” Neil cut in before Adam could affirm. “He’s still Adam. Perhaps he has gone Wandering, but he’s not grown into a different person.”

“Perhaps not.” It was the king, and his voice was harsh. “But he’s learned many things since then, grown wise. He _has_ gone Wandering and it would do you well to remember that you have not.”

Neil’s face grew stiff. He tilted his head away, gave a mocking little bow, but remained silent.

“The settlement, my Queen?” Adam pressed lightly, if only to ease the tight knot that had formed in his stomach.

She beckoned him closer, closer still so she could draw him down to sit on his father’s other side. “Around the time when the strawberries grow ripe, we heard that the settlement had been attacked. Greymen had raided it, said they’d spare their people if they could tell the Greymen how to cross the mountain or tell them of someone who could lead them to the other side. They couldn’t, and the Greymen killed their leaders, left the others scattered to the winds.”

“We can.” Neil, again. “They must know of our map by now.”

“All the more reason to avoid them,” Sarah, one of the King’s council, spoke up.

“Not at all,” Neil insisted. “They want to cross the mountain, we want them gone. Why not give them the map and send them on their way? Why should we continue to fear them, day after day, when we can be rid of them, and happily, so easily?”

“Greymen are dangerous,” Tommy cut in, face a tight mask. “You cannot trust them. They killed my family because we did not grant them passage across the mountain. Don’t think they won’t do the same to yours.”

“Not if we grant them passage,” Neil said with a wave of his hand like he was shooing away a fly. “Why should they harm us if we give them what they want?”

“Because that won’t be all they want,” Tommy said. “They ask for passage, and then they’ll ask for your women, and your children, and your goods. They won’t stop until they have taken everything.”

“So you know them personally, do you?” Neil asked, and Tommy instantly fell silent.

“Perhaps we should consider Tommy’s words,” Marcus,of the king’s council, cautioned. He turned to Adam’s father, who nodded. “If the Greymen are coming, we’d best be prepared.”

Neil shoved off the wall. "This is ridiculous," he said.“Fighting the Greymen will only lead to bloodshed.Bloodshed that can be easily avoided if we only bargain with them.”

"Are you really willing to take that risk?" his father cut in before Adam could say something scathing. "What if we bargain with them, and they betray us? What then?"

“Then we will face them down,” Neil said, chin lifted haughtily into the air. “And we will triumph over them.”

“And why should we take that risk,” Adam shot back, “when we can simply not bargain with them at all? I say we tighten our defenses, we lay low, and should the Greymen really make their way here, we’ll be ready to fight.” He caught Neil’s gaze and held it. “Were you not the one insisting that the Greymen would never be able to find us?”

Neil kept silent, eyes ablaze.

Around them, Adam saw the council members pass quiet nods.

“Wandering makes men grow wise,” he heard Sarah murmur to Marcus.

Neil must have heard it too, because he rolled his eyes. “Since it appears that no one values my opinion very much, I ask to take my leave, Father.”

“Go,” their father said, curling his hands like he himself was about to lose his temper, and Adam couldn’t blame him.

Adam watched Neilstomp towards the exit, brows steadily climbing up his forehead.

His mother sighed and leaned across his father’s lap to cover on of Adam’s hands with her own. “I cannot remember you ever being this difficult,” she said.

“I’m sure I was, Mother,” Adam lied. Truth be told, at Neil’s age, he had already had responsibilities and commitments driving home that he would likely be King of the Mountain one day, and he had known better than to flounce about like a petulant child.

Between them, his father sighed. “We shall make the necessary arrangements,” he said, raising his voice to be heard above the hubbub. “Keep on the look-out. Do not roam the forest alone. Greymen are not to be trifled with.”

“Are we really going to believe the foreigners?” someone called out.

Before Adam could turn and tear him down for his attitude, his father shook his head. “If you will not believe the foreigners, trust in Prince Adam. Princes of the Mountain bring home wisdom and advisers, that’s the way it is.”

The chatter only rose at that, and Adam’s gaze was once again drawn to Tommy when the slim man turned, hands balled into tight fists.

“May I take my leave, my Lord?” he asked, and at the king’s distracted wave of a hand, he turned and left the hall, swiftly and silently.

Adam watched him go. He felt the sudden, burning desire to run after him, but instead he asked his leave also and returned to his cavern to find his companions, his friends. Isaac sat fully dressed, sharpening his knives still while Allison rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Monte, who had gone ahead, was carefully inspecting his shirts and pants for holes and loose seams, and from Allison’s first question when he sat down next to her, Adam figured that Monte had already filled them in.

“What’s so important across the mountain, anyway?”

“No one knows.” Adam smiled a little. “Well, mountain runners know, but they refuse to share the secret.”

 _Secret_ , Allison mouthed, and Adam had to grin as he resettled against the rocky surface behind him.

“There are rumors, of course – myths about a land where fruits grow year-round on the trees and snow never falls. The rains are short and never sweep away newly-planted crops, and the sun burns so hot that you can leave the clothes you washed out to dry even in the winter.”

It was possible he might have been exaggerating a little, so Isaac’s scoff was hardly a surprise, annoying as it was to see Allison’s enchanted smile fade.

“There is a legend,” he said brusquely. “A Greymen legend that tells of an enchanted land on the other side of the mountain. Maybe they’ve heard tales of it, or maybe they believe that it used to be theirs. Either way, some, the ones stronger in their beliefs, they think that they need only cross the mountain for all their troubles to be over. And they will risk anything to do so.”

“They’re delusional,” Isaac concluded.

“Don’t you think it’s a little bit romantic, though?” Allison asked him. “I mean, enchanted lands where all your dreams come true, isn’t that worth fighting for?”

“Is it worth killing over?” Isaac asked, and although Adam wanted to smack him once again for making Allison droop the way she did, he had to admit that the man had a point.

  



	2. Part 2

Adam woke with a start. He blinked upwards, expecting stars and seeing only darkness, and felt a wave of something hot wash down his spine. He had been one of the first to fall asleep last night, and no doubt his friends hadn’t thought to replace the dying candle before they themselves turned in. And now there was nothing, only darkness pressing down on him from all directions. The furs covering him were stifling. Allison’s weight on his arm was crushing, suddenly, her hair trailing over Adam’s skin rubbing on raw nerve.

He pushed her away, ignoring her sleepy call of “Adam, what-?” and stumbled outside into the hall where at least there were torches lighting the way, and he leaned his forehead against the wall and breathed quietly for a moment.

It wasn’t long before there were footsteps inside, and then Monte ducked into the hallway, his sword in his hand.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Adam said, forcing a smile when Monte didn’t move. “Go back to sleep,” he said. “I’ll find us a candle to light.”

Monte nodded, and although he seemed reluctant to return to his bedding, he left Adam to his own devices.

Adam turned so his back was protected at least, felt the solid, cold stone against his sweat soaked shirt and forced himself to relax. It was later than he would have thought, or perhaps earlier – there was some noise, people speaking somewhere, someone clanging with pots, and the uncertainty of where or who they were abruptly had Adam wishing that he was out in the wilderness somewhere, where you could see even in the darkest night and every sound carried for miles.

A few quick footsteps and Adam jumped, hands reaching for a sword that wasn’t at his side, before he forced himself to take another few deep breaths. He couldn’t afford to be this skittish. What if he drew his blade on a child, or worse yet, another warrior who saw it as a challenge? He, more than anyone, had to remain calm. He needed help with this. He needed his friend.

Older than Adam by several years, Cassidy had always been a voice of reason to him. He was a well-spoken, level-headed man whose skill with a needle was known as far as the town at the foot of the mountain, and maybe beyond.Adam had always believed that all that time spent sitting and working had allowed Cassidy to think about everything and anything, giving him time to understand things that always remained just slightly out of Adam’s grasp.

Maybe it was the way that Cassidy pondered their community’s comings and goings with the same importance as he did a request for a new article of clothing that had Adam so at ease. There was no denying that the thought of Cassidy not caring much whether Adam lived or died stung a little, but then the way the man offered him a nod as if they had only spoken yesterday rather than two years ago. It was the first response since his return that made Adam feel as though he were truly still a part of his father’s court.

“Cass,” he said in greeting as he settled himself next to the other man.

“Eva needs a cloak,” Cassidy replied, holding the fabric up to the light so Adam could admire the dark blue color. “That girl is going to freeze to death come winter if I don’t make her something now.”

“I won’t distract you,” Adam promised, but Cassidy just laughed.

“You will,” he said easily. “But perhaps it will keep my mind off the tedium of my work. You had a question.”

Adam startled at the prompt before he remembered that yes, as always, there was something he had wanted to speak to Cassidy about.

“Is this about your brother?” Cassidy continued before Adam had time to elaborate.

“Neil. Yes.” Adam shifted uncertainly. “He seems different.”

“He is different.” Cassidy’s voice carried a hint of disbelief. “Everyone has changed during the time you spent away. You certainly have.”

“I have. I’m ready to be king,” he confessed, quietly. He had no reason to upstage his father, but he could feel that knowledge, that power, pulsing through his veins.

“And yet there are those that would choose Neil before they chose you,” Cassidy interrupted his thoughts.

“Neil is a child.” Adam protested, although yes, perhaps that had been part of what had been on his mind.

Cassidy slowly shook his head from side to side. “Neil is close to you in age. Yes, he still has to go Wandering, but he will not be gone for long. You are honest, brutally so, and you surround yourself with foreigners, while your brother has a tongue that spins every truth into something his listeners want to hear.”

“Neil is a good man,” Adam said heatedly. “He is worthy of allegiance.”

“He is,” Cassidy said, inclining his head. “But how would you know that? You haven’t seen him in over two years, have barely spoken to him since.”

“I know my brother,” Adam insisted.

The other man looked up from the cloak for a moment, narrowing his eyes at Adam, then he sighed. “Either way, the two of you will split the mountain into fractions if you aren’t careful, and a divided mountainis something we cannot afford.”

Adam leaned back against the rock behind him, sighing himself. Cassidy had always known how to make his temper flare, but it was hard to stay angry at someone so calm, so rational. “The mountain is split into fractions over my mother and father,” he said, “and that works out just fine.”

“It’s different with them.” Cassidy held up his needle, allowing the threat to grow taunt before Adam’s eyes. “Your father brought your mother in as a bride – it was clear that they would rule together. You and your brother, however, are rivals.” His gaze flickered over to Adam when Adam snorted.

“You are. You are both contenders for the throne, and as such, you are rivals, whether you mean to be or not.” Cassidy tilted his head, giving Adam a long, thoughtful look that had Adam squirming where he sat before he returned to his stitching. “There are those that will wait for your brother to return instead of pledging their allegiance to you.”

“Neil may never return,” Adam pointed out.

“I know that.” Cassidy snapped the thread with his teeth and pushed the needle through the cuff of his sleeve before he held up the shirt to inspect it closely in the dim light. “But he may return, and there are those who believe that when he does, he will be stronger and faster and wiser than you.”

“It’s possible,” Adam admitted, though from Neil’s stature and attitude, he doubted Neil would ever be a better fighter than he was. “But he’s not due for Wandering for some time yet. It’ll be years before he returns, if he even does.”

“You did,” Cassidy reminded him. He smiled. “Not that I’m not glad you did,” he said, voice teasing in tone, and Adam responded with an uneasy smile of his own.

Later, on his way to the council hall for a bite to eat, Adam found himself confronted with a girl that reached all the way to his hip, gazing up at him with a serious set to her jaw.

“I saw you fight yesterday,” she said.

“Is that so?” Adam asked, and she nodded.

“I want to fight like that.”

“You could practice with someone your age,” Adam said. “Carefully. Find some wooden sticks and strip them.”

The girl shook her head. “Everyone my age is bad at fighting,” she said. “And they cry when I beat them.”

Adam had to chuckle at that, because he remembered well that feeling of utter frustration that not even boys and girls bigger and older than he was proved much of a challenge when sparing, and he gave the girl a nod. “I’ll teach you,” he said. “How good are you with knives?”

Which was precisely how he ended up clutching a hand to his bleeding arm, the blade he had given the little girl lying in the dust between them. The girl herself, Carrie, watched him mouth curses with tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry if you’re gonna die,” she said.

Adam laughed. The cut wasn’t particularly serious. It was along the underside of his arm, shallow, would heal quickly but probably scar, nothing more than an unfortunate combination of Carrie flipping the knife in her hand the very moment Adam reached in to correct her grip.

“I didn’t survive two years of Wandering just to die in my very own halls,” Adam assured her. He smiled. “I’ll be fine. Our lessons might have to wait a little, though, if that’s okay.”

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “Are you sure you’re not going to die?”

“Pretty sure,” Adam said. “Have you ever put in stitches? If not, you’re going to have to get Cassidy for me.”

Carrie wiped the moisture from her eyes. “I can do it,” she said. “As long as you promise not to faint.”

Adam was no stranger to injury, not after two years of feeding himself with money earned by prize fighting and defending himself from robbers and roadside bandits. The pain from the cut was minimal, especially since he had long since learned which herbs sped along the recovery process and which numbed the sensation in his arm, and yet his companions and his people made sure he was left to rest and spared any tasks which would injure his arm further.

It was nice. Adam had little experience with being pampered, and after being gone for so long, he had fully expected a rush of things to catch up with. Instead, he found himself reacquainting himself with his home, catching up with old friends and showing around the new. Tommy even stopped by once or twice, giving Adam a little wave before he disappeared off into the darkness of the corridors, always unwilling to stay.

Neil, however, quickly gave Adam a headache. He’d stopped by to see Adam several times but never hung around when Adam had others with him. The one time he came when Adam was alone, Adam had been about to fall asleep, and Neil had stalked off in a huff when Adam asked him to leave him be.

And now, Adam had all but walked in on his brother and the Queen, Neil insisting that Adam’s injury proved him to be weak, spoiled after his Wandering; unsuitable to be King of the Mountain.

Adam drew himself up to his full height, squaring his shoulders, and stepped forward. “Neil,” he said, and his brother flinched before he, too, tried to stand up straight.

“Adam,” his mother said, and Adam shook his head.

“It’s alright, my Queen,” he said. “I don’t expect him to understand what Wandering really means.”

Neil glared at him. “Stop treating me like a child.”

“Neil, you are a child,” Adam said deliberately.

A helpless, humiliated flush spread over his brother’s face, but Adam refused to feel bad about it. There were behaviors that were simply unacceptable for his brother to engage in, and undermining the authority of the future King of the Mountain was one of them.

Neil opened his mouth, but Adam didn’t allow him to protest.“You are a child, and you using a minor injury to spread lies and rumors about me only proves that you are. You think this,” he gestured at his bandaged arm, “makes me weak? Neil, it’s been almost a week since my return, and I have yet to see you hone your fighting skills. The only battles you have engaged in were those of the tongue.”

“Rhetoric is an important skill,” Neil insisted. “Who am I going to kill here?” He spread his arms, encompassing his parents, the council hall, everything. “We are at peace.”

“For now, yes.” Adam let his hand rest on the hilt of his sword, watched Neil’s eyes follow the movement as if he couldn’t help but be drawn to it. Adam noticed once again that the belt at Neil’s waist was bare. He had dismissed it as Neil being too young, because try as he might he couldn’t help but think of his little brother as a child, but that of course was a ridiculous assumption. Boys and girls a decade younger than Neil were armed.

Adam tapped two fingers against the sword’s hilt meaningfully, and Neil’s gaze flicked to his face.

“But all that can change in a moment,” he said. “A moment,” he drew the sword from its scabbard, nothing more than a hair’s width with a flick of his finger, but the scrape of metal against metal was loud in the quiet room, “is all it takes.”

“Back so soon?” Cassidy asked. He was still working on the same fabric, thoughit had now taken on the shape of an actual cloak rather than a shapeless length of blue.

“What can I say?” Adam shrugged,then smiled. “It’s been a few days. I couldn’t stand the thought of you weeping at my absence.”

“I weep at your presence,” Cassidy muttered, but he didn’t object when Adam took a seat next to him.

“So, is this what I should expect now?” he asked once he had made himself comfortable. “My brotherbelligerentand my parents’ council tense yet passive?”

“Neil will find his way,” Cassidy said serenely. His eyes flickered upwards, and he smiled. “Give him a little time. You yourself weren’t always so calm and self-assured as you are now.”

“Maybe not,” Adam admitted. “But I always knew where my duties lay.”

“And Neil will learn.” Cassidy’s voice was firm. “If he’s given the chance to prove himself.”

“Others seek out chances,” Adam said. “There was certainly no one patiently waiting for me to prove my worth. I won my followers and friends over through will and effort.”

“You draw people in,” Cassidy said without looking up from his stitching. “You always have.”

“You’ve never pledged yourself to me,” Adam reminded him.

Cassidy turned to face him, abruptly, startling Adam upright. Caught off-guard, he could do nothing but stare as Cassidy took his hand, thumb drawing lightly over Adam’s fingers. “I am pledged to your mother, my Lord,” he said. “But when the time comes, I will avow myself to you.”

“My mother.” Adam laughed helplessly. “My mother has suggested that I attend the market in town.”

“Your mother is a wise woman. There is a reason she has my allegiance.” Cassidy brushed several loose ends of thread from his thighs. “It’s an excellent idea,” he said, when Adam still didn’t speak. “It will give you some distance. Time to think.”

Adam grinned wryly. “Is that all? No insights? No reminder that my brother needs time to grow?”

“Why bother? Your mind is already fixed on the issue.” Cassidy softened his words with a smile. “You want advice? Take Tommy with you. He’s good company, and he loves the market. All those shiny, frilly things. Boy is worse than a magpie.”

Adam scoffed, though the thought of being alone with Tommy for an entire day sent a pleasantly warm shiver down his spine. “So long as his magpie impressiondoesn’t get us in trouble with the locals. We have a bad enough reputation as it is.”

Cassidy lowered his head, but Adam could still see him bite down on a smile. “He’s a good man,” he said. “He won’t do anything to make your life difficult.”

“Not intentionally, maybe,” Adam said. “But you know mountain runners don’t always take things like personal property as seriously as the plains people.”

“And have you ever met a mountain runner who stole?” Cassidy asked with a roll of his eyes. “Wait, no, you haven’t, because Tommy is the only mountain runner you know. And I’m telling you, he’s a good man.”

“Fine,” Adam barked. “I’ll take him. There’s no need to be insulting.”

“You know I’d never insult you,” Cassidy said, smiling sweetly.

Adam rolled his eyes. “I hope you know this is only because I trust your judgment.”

About a quarter of the way into the ride, Adam was seriously beginning to doubt Cassidy’s words – or his sanity. If there was something Tommy wasn’t, it was good company. He barely spoke, even when Adam asked him a direct question, and his answers were monosyllabic to the point of being dull. He kept both hands loosely fisted in his dapple gray’s mane. Adam usually didn’t mind being the one to keep the conversation alive, but he couldn’t help but feel out of his depth around the quiet man.

He tugged lightly on the reins to the third horse, the one intended for sale, when it grew interested in the grass at the side of the path.

At least there were going to be ways for him to occupy his time if Tommy maintained his silence; it had been some time since he had been to the town’s market, but he had learned quite a few things about bartering since then, and he intended to use them. There were things that he was sure he could get for less than was common, so maybe they would be well prepared for the winter this time; less likely to have to ration their supplies as they usually did.The merchants in town would be smug, without a doubt, but they would be willing to give Adam what his people needed.

They could fend for themselves, of course – mountain people were dependent on no one – but there were things which were easier to buy than make: knives and arrow tips, boots, soaps and lotions. It was easier, but Adam could not say that he enjoyed the task. He preferred to be independent, hated having to ask the plains people for anything, even if it was in trade.

“Maybe I should bring Neilback something,” he mused aloud. “To win back his favor.” He hadn’t meant to say something so personal, so private, and regretted it the moment he did, but the words were already out there.

Tommy grinned, hips loosely swinging with the horse’s rhythmic movements. “He has a girl,” he explained, still smirking. “In town. He always volunteers to go so he can see her, but with you here, he couldn’t.”

Adam thought that over, gazing up at the leafy canopy above them. He made it all the way to the seaboard while Wandering, saw the sheer cliffs and the windbattered trees and saw the empty, grassy plains two seasons ride away from there, but he still thought nowhere was as beautiful as the forests surrounding the mountain.

Tommy made a querying noise, and Adam offered him a slow smile.

“My parents must not be pleased,” he said. “A girl from town? She’s neither one of us _nor_ a foreigner, and they despise us.”

“Perhaps so.” Tommy shrugged. “But there’s not much they can do, is there? You know how he is.”

Adam nodded, because he did, indeed. Neil had never been one to adhere to other people’s standards, stubbornly doing whatever he liked, no matter how good or bad it might be for the rest of their people. _Neil’s_ people, because just like Adam he was a Prince of the Mountain, and he was obligated to do whatever he could to help them.

It was an issue he wished he could forget, but once brought to the forefront of his mind it was hard to lay to rest, and Tommy seemed content to let him wallow in his thoughts.

“I just can’t let things stand like this,” he finally burst out, quite a distance later, and his companion turned thoughtful eyes on him.

“You know,” Tommy said, slowly. “Whenever my sister had gotten it into her head that she was cross about something, and a merchant had gotten himself lost in the mountains, I would barter for some sweets. Candied fruits, small sugar rocks, whatever they had.”

Adam, who had rarely heard Tommy mention his family, nudged his horse a little closer. “And that worked?” he asked.

“Every time.” Tommy grinned. “Even when I didn’t even know what she was angry about, she forgave me immediately.”

“Neil likes sweet things,” Adam said. “He always makes sure he gets the darkest strawberries or the smallest apples.”

“Bring him something,” Tommy said. “And then wait with him while he eats it, but don’t ask for a share. It’ll work.”

Adam hummed a reply, already calculating which of his rings or beads he would be able to trade in for a confection. “Any other advice?” he asked. “I’m not sure a candied pear will be enough, in this case.”

Tommy laughed and started talking, not only about how to win a disgruntled sibling’s favor but also about his family in general, about his sister’s love of all things blue and his mother’s terrible singing voice. It was slow at first, but at Adam’s gentle prods, he mentioned his father’s leg that had been difficult ever since a boar attacked him on a hunt, about seeking shelter from a thunderstorm in a cave inhabited by possums, about an avalanche that had once torn away their entire supply of firewood for the winter.

Adam brushed a sympathetic hand over Tommy’s shoulder and almost thought he imagined the way Tommy leaned into it before he grinned and launched into a story of the time a colony of fire ants had decided to move into his family’s home, Tommy’s hand squeezing Adam’s knee for only a moment before it darted away.

Adam was almost a little sad when they finally reached the plains, the town’s strong walls rising up before them. The gates were open and the streets inside packed with people, so Adam had Tommy and himself dismount and walk their horses through the crowd. They passed booths and stands, merchants carrying baskets and others asking visitors into their shops. It was loud, and colorful, but Adam had seen so much now that it seemed not half as magnificent as it used to.

“Do you need me for this?” Tommy asked when Adam hesitated in front of a woman selling spices, he himself turning his head to follow a man walking away with a crate full of colored beads under his arm.

Adam didn’t need Tommy’s help, he could manage just fine on his own, but even if he couldn’t, he wasn’t sure he would be able to make the other man stay at his side when his mind was so obviously on other things.

“Go ahead,” he said, giving Tommy’s shoulder a little push.

The other man certainly didn’t need telling twice, patting the grey on the flank before trotting after the man with the beads with the determination of a woman with her sight fixed on the last eligible bachelor.

Shaking his head, Adam pushed through the throngs of people, leading all threehorses towards the livestock section of the market. He traded the young mare for two short swords, an axe and a bundle of coins that meant nothing to him but would help him make the other purchases he needed to before he returned home. Not everyone was willing to cut deals with mountain people, especially if they were bartering goods, not money, but the coin purse from the sale of the horse was heavy against his thigh and even the most reluctant of merchants was willing to open his doors once he heard the clink of Adam’s coins.

When the sun began to dip down towards the rooftops, Adam started looking around for Tommy. They were far from the mountain, and the way back was a steady uphill climb. They would have to leave soon if they wanted to return home before nightfall turned the path treacherous and deadly.

It took him a while to find the other man. Pale hair like Tommy’s was not as rare here as it was on the mountain and the market was decently sized, drawing people from far reaching areas. When he finally did find the other man, however, it was not at a stand for dyed glass or feathered hats the way he had expected – instead, Tommy lounged at a woodcarver’s stand, several paces away from a large bale of hay with a target drawnupon it where men and women could shoot arrows for sport, ignoring the crowd that had gathered at the barrier. A sour-faced man, perhaps a merchant stood watch beside a small table that held three small clay pots, tightly sealed. The woodcarver herself, a woman Adam vaguely remembered from his last time at the market, pushed aside several of her bows and finally returned with one, a frown forming between her brows.

“This is the smallest one I have,” she said apologetically, but Tommy took the bow anyway, shrugging her off.

Adam tied the two horses to the barrier and swung himself over it, landing lightly next to Tommy. “What’s going on here?” he asked, sliding his arm around the man’s waist.

The shorter man glanced up at him and, grinning, relaxed into his hold. “This gentleman doesn’t believe I can sink two out of three arrows into the blue,” he said.

Not for the first time, Adam found himself wondering how good of an archer Tommy really was. Adam knew he was often asked to go hunting, that the other hunters among his people liked to have him along, but none of that justified the calm, confident tone in Tommy’s voice.

“What’s the wager?” he asked.

Tommy tilted his head at a small stool on which sat three clay containers, each one small enough to fit in Adam’s palm. “Those, or a day’s worth of labor,” he said, as though what he had just announced was not a brazen, idiotic bargain.

“A day’s worth of labor?” Adam hissed. “And just how do you think that we could pay our debt?”

“We won’t have to,” Tommy replied, collected and cool. There was not a hint of pride or boasting – he appeared to truly believe that there was no way they would lose.

Still – there were ways to lessen the risks. Adam gestured at the bow lashed to Tommy’s saddle, because every fighter was most comfortable with his own weapon, but Tommy shook his head.

“I can shoot with this,” he said, nodding his chin at the weapon in his hands.

“Now you’re just being foolish,” the merchant cut in, falling silent again when both Adam and Tommy regarded him with quelling looks.

“Are you?” Adam asked nonetheless. “Would you risk less if you shot your own bow?”

Tommy scoffed. “Not here,” he said. He gestured around the courtyard with the tip of the boy; the woodcarver, the merchant, the small crowd of curious on-lookers. “There is no risk here.” He tipped his chin upwards when he met Adam’s gaze. “Not like this.”

“If you insist,” Adam said.

Tommy grinned at him, a flash of teeth before it was gone. He held the bow before him and pulled string and arrow back with an easy, confident movement. “Last chance to change your wager,” he said, speaking to the merchant without even meeting his eye. When silence was the only reply, he clucked his tongue. “Your loss,” he said, and let the arrow fly.

Adam knew it had hit its mark before he heard the on-lookers gasp. The woodcarver’s expression cleared to the same degree that the merchant’s darkened, but Tommy seemed to feel no need to stop and gloat. He let a second arrow fly, hitting the mark as well, then sank an unnecessary third just slightly upwards and to the left, neatly piercing the line between the inner circle and the ring around it.

The crowd let out a few cheers and whistles, but Adam couldn’t help but think that they had wanted the mountain runner to lose, or maybe they had merely anticipated a little more thrill. Within a few moments, most of the onlookers had blended into the late crowd. The merchant turned away, scowling, and Tommy turned to Adam, rocking up on his toes with an expectant smile.

“Now will you tell me what the wager was for?” Adam asked.

Grinning, Tommy handed the woodcarver back her bow, picked up one of the containers He twisted the top off of one bowl with an easy, practiced movement and offered it up for Adam to see; the inside was a dark, murky paste that had Adam frowning, taken aback.

The other man dipped one finger into the container and dragged it over his lower lip, staining the skin there a dark, leafy green.

“It’s ink,” he said. “Like the color with which you line your eyes. I think it’s beautiful.”

Adam barely managed a nod. He was still staring at Tommy’s lip, at the color there. He’d seen dark red color staining the lips of women down at the edge of the desert, far, far away from here, but he’d never thought that he would find something like that right here, just a short ride away from his home.

“Time to go home, son,” the woodcarver cut in, meaning Tommy. She collected the other two jars and pressed them into Tommy’s hands, who took them reverently, and nodded her head at Adam. “You better leave, before he,” the merchant, “decides he’d like recompense anyway.”

The last spectators had dispersed by now and it was no hardship to untie their horses and lead them towards the town’s gates. Tommy followed slowly, still entranced by his inks, opening and reopening pots to peer at and dip his fingers into the vivid colors.

Adam slowed his steps, waiting for him to catch up. “They are beautiful,” he admitted. “But a day’s worth of labor?We’re barely going to make it back before dark as it is.”

Tommy merely grinned, unrepentant. He ducked his eyes behind his hair and leaned against Adam’s side, and Adam, after a startled moment, tucked his arm around Tommy’s waist and bit back a smile.

They reached the mountain with the last rays of light, riding hard for over an hour. A part of Adam wanted to be angry about it, to focus on the dangers of travelling at night, but it was exhilarating, too, the wind whipping through his hair while the sun sank lower and lower.

One of the guards, a girl called Alicia, stood waiting at the end of the tunnel to take the horses and purchases from them.

“How was town?” she asked, and “Were there many travellers?” and “Did you see any strange animals?”

Distracted by her questions, Adam took his time unsaddling his horse, and he looked up when Tommy moved past him, brushing his hand along the small of Adam’s back.

“Where are you going?” Adam asked, but Tommy simply smiled and didn’t stop walking.

Adam lifted the saddle off his horse and reached for a handful of straw to quickly rub it down, Alicia prattling on on the horse’s other side, but he wasn’t particularly surprised when Tommy had disappeared by the time Adam had delivered their purchases and the few leftover coins.

Neil looked startled when Adam confronted him in the council hall, but his wide-eyed look was quickly replaced by delight when Adam unwrapped the confection he’d bought him.

“Thank you,” he crowed, pushing a piece into his mouth. He hesitated. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Adam nodded. “I’m sorry you couldn’t see your girl,” he said, and Neil flushed a deep, dark red, but he nodded.

“You want some?” he asked, holding out the piece he’d broken off like an offering.

Adam took it, careful to keep it from crumbling, and slipped it into his mouth. It was good, great even, and his grin grew even wider at the sticky-pleased one Neil gave him in return.

Their newfound camaraderie lasted all of a day. Then Adam found a few brightly colored feathers in his pack that, while beautiful, were certainly not his, and when he set out to return them to Tommy, came across his brother instead.

“I’m looking for Tommy,” he said.

Neil rolled his eyes. “Of course you are.”

Adam cut him a sharp look. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Neil said, picking himself up off the ground. “You just seem to be very interested in everything he does, considering the two of you have just met.” He pulled on his shirt so violently that Adam could hear the seam tearing. Cassidy would be pissed.

“I haven’t seen him.” Neil glared at him. “He disappears sometimes. I’m sure he’ll pop back up sooner or later.”

He stalked away, leaving Adam staring after him with nothing left to say. How could this moody, aggressive little brat be the brother he had left behind?

Adam eventually didn’t so much find Tommy as he nearly tripped over him out in the enclosed garden, lying supine in the grass, eyes fixed firmly on the stars above them.

“Sorry,” Tommy said, pulling his legs up in what Adam thought might have been an attempt to let him pass through.

“Where have you been all day?” Adam asked, careful to keep any accusation out of his tone. It wasn’t any of his business where Tommy spent his days. Not yet.

Tommy lifted one hand into the air and waggled it from side to side before he let it flop back into the grass. “Around,” he said. He didn’t protest when Adam sat down next him, legs crossed underneath him, and Adam took that as permission to stay.

“I was looking for you,” he said.

“Sorry,” Tommy said. “I just had to get away for a bit. It’s so busy here.” He rubbed his arms in an almost absentminded way, like it was from habit more than actual chill. “There’s always someone doing something. Always people. And even when they’re nowhere near you, the echoes still make it sound like they’re practically breathing down your neck.”

He ran his hands over his skin again, more determinedly this time. When Adam lay down and reached over to tug him closer, he didn’t resist, fell heavily against Adam’s side.

“I thought mountain runners lived in close quarters, like us.”

Tommy didn’t meet his eyes. “Perhaps when we seek shelter for the night, yes. But when we step outside with the rising sun, we are alone.” He reached out to tug at a loose thread at the seam of Adam’s pants. “My sister and I roamed the forest together when we could barely walk.”

Adam ran his hand through Tommy’s hair. “I get it, if that helps,” he said after a moment. “Having to get away for a little while.”

Tommy chewed on his lower lip for a while. “It does, funnily enough,” he finally said. He rolled over, curling himself into Adam’s side, and Adam was not about to protest.

Tommy didn’t protest when Adam suggested they head inside a little while later, just sighed and pushed himself to his feet.

“Can’t have you catching cold, after all,” Adam said.

The other man shrugged. “I’m alright,” he said. “I just get a little overwhelmed sometimes.”

He remained clingy all the way back inside, not that Adam minded, even when Adam remembered why he had gone looking for Tommy in the first place.

“Yes, those are mine,” Tommy said, pressing against Adam’s side. “Thank you.”

“So you did find him,” Neil interrupted, emerging from one of their storage rooms with a carafe in each hand. He bared his teeth at Tommy. “Were you doing anything productive, or was it just business as usual?”

Tommy was quiet for a moment. “Excuse me,” he murmured, pushing away from Adam and disappearing around a corner.

“He’s a little fragile, don’t you think?” Neil commented.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Neil, go to bed,” he said, and he didn’t wait for his brother’s reply before he turned and did the same.

Adam didn’t see Tommy again that evening. There wasn’t anything to be worried about, he knew that. Tommy was a man, a hunter, and in all likelihood older than Adam was. Still, it made him restless, fidgety. He met Allison’s frown with a reassuring smile when they bedded down for the night, but when he awoke some time later, twitchy and uncertain, he pushed aside the furs and beddings and went to take a look.

Maybe it was later than he thought, and Tommy no longer thought anyone was coming for him, or maybe he was simply abysmal at hiding. Either way, Adam had tracked him down within minutes, simply by following the trail of heat and warm cooking into the council hall.

The hall itself was warm, warmer than the corridors at least, but it was nearly empty. Two women, one of them a guard Adam recognized, sat huddled by the fire, too absorbed in their conversation to pay him much mind.

Across the cavern, in the hall’s darkest corner, sat a huddled figure that had little in common with the proud, confident man Adam had chided at the market. A cloak was slung around his shoulders and pulled up over his knees, protecting him from the draft of cold night air that steadily crept through the cavern. He stiffened when he saw Adam but didn’t move away, and Adam saw it as an invitation to settle on his haunches in front of the other man and drape his forearms over Tommy’s knees.

“I hope you realize,” he said conversationally, “that Neil is an idiot.”

Tommy reluctantly raised bleary eyes to meet his and frowned.

“Well.” Adam opened his hands, palms facing upwards. “He may be my brother, and a Prince of the Mountain, but he’s yet to go Wandering. He knows nothing beyond these borders, and if he doesn’t learn to keep his mouth shut, he may get himself killed before he has the opportunity to learn.”

“I don’t know why I always let him get to me,” Tommy said. “It’s not like it was the first time.” He sounded hoarse, and Adam really hoped he wasn’t getting sick. It wasn’t a good thing to be on the mountain.

“It happens to the best of us.” Adam grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.”

“I can take care of myself,” Tommy said, and Adam couldn’t help but laugh.

“Please do,” he said. “Neil could stand to be knocked down a peg or two.”

Tommy grimaced, obviously unwilling to agree with Adam’s disrespectful words, but not willing to lie for Neil’s sake, either. A moment later he began to cough, muting the sound in the crook of his elbow, and Adam felt a steep line form between his brows.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine.” Tommy stifled another cough. “Cold, that’s all.”

Adam looked around, hoping for another blanket to lie around Tommy’s shoulder, and instead caught sight of the two women by the hearth. Their murmurs were too soft to make out, but whatever was simmering along in the pot above the fire smelled delicious, and there were few things as soothing to a chilled body as a steaming broth.

A few words, a smile, and Adam brought Tommy back a mug full of liquid, keeping both eyes on it as he walked to keep it from sloshing over the side. He had to put it into Tommy’s hands himself, fold open his fingers and mold them around the container, but once his skin touched the warm clay, Tommy seemed to startle into awareness.

“Thank you,” he murmured. He took a short sip, then a longer, deeper one, and smiled a little. “You shouldn’t be taking care of me,” he said.

“Maybe I want to.”

When Tommy turned too-large eyes to him, blinking in surprise, Adam shook his head.

“Drink,” he said, watching as Tommy obeyed.

He took the container from the other man’s fingers and set it down on the ground next to them. “Come with me,” he said, rising to his feet without letting go of Tommy’s hand, forcing the other man to contort himself upwards. He hardly gave the man time to collect himself before he tugged him away, Tommy clutching at his cloak to keep it on his shoulders, stumbling behind him in the darkness.

Tommy’s breath hitched a little when he recognized where he was being lead, when Adam carefully directed him to step over Allison’s curled up form and held him still before he accidentally trod on Monte’s hand.

Adam drew Tommy down with him, barely allowing him to lay down on his side and sling an arm around Adam’s middle from behind before he pulled the covers over them both. Allison murmured and shifted backwards, into Adam’s warmth, and a moment later, Adam felt Tommy’s hot breath between his shoulder blades as the other man molded himself against Adam’s body.

“Sleep well,” Adam whispered in the candle’s faint golden glow.

Tommy’s hand tightened against his stomach in response, and Adam allowed himself a small smile when he let his eyes flutter shut.

Adam expected the next day to be odd, for his foreign friends to feel abandoned perhaps, or his family to comment on the fact that Tommy was, so obviously, a man, but the morning was calm and pleasant. Isaac rolled his eyes when Adam met his gaze after waking, Tommy’s arm still firmly around his waist. Monte ran the pad of his thumb over one of Tommy’s knives and declared it needed sharpening. Allison grinned and asked Tommy about his hair.

Nothing had changed, and yet everything had. Neil still glowered, but Adam didn’t care so much anymore. Cassidy still gave biting advice, but Adam remained serene. Adam saw happiness wherever he looked, but the world kept on fighting.

It was normal under the mountain, of course. So many people living in such an enclosed space naturally led to arguments, and as violent a people as they were, fighting was, if not necessary, then nevertheless encouraged.

That didn’t mean that he wasn’t uncomfortable when he and Tommy came across two children on top of another, smaller boy in the hallway, but he didn’t step in. The losing boy needed to learn to defend himself. He had to grow strong if he ever hoped to survive on the mountain.

Of course Tommy had other ideas. “Stop it, the both of you,” he snapped, pulling one child away with each hand. “You’ve proved your point. Now leave it be.”

They stepped back reluctantly, watching with keen eyes while the third boy struggled to his feet.

“I’ll get you,” he hissed, futilely, and it was no surprise when the other children laughed.

“I’m so scared now,” the girl said.

The boy at her side nudged her shoulder, but he still addressed the smaller one. “Yeah, ‘cause you’re such a good fighter. I’m quaking in my boots, Foreigner.”

“That’s enough,” Adam said, stepping forward. “Beat it, you two.”

The two children were gone within moments, hasty steps echoing along the corridors.

Adam looked down at the boy left behind. His collar was torn and there was a bruise forming green and large over his cheekbone. His eyes shone with tears but he let none of them fall, instead wiping at his nose with his sleeve.

Tommy crouched on the floor before him, gave him a little smile. “Are you alright?” he asked.

The boy nodded, running his sleeve over his eyes this time.

Adam shook his head. This child was too small to be running around with no one here to so much as watch him. “Where is your mother?” he asked.

“I’m too old to be under her supervision,” the boy snapped.

Adam peered at him. Looking closely, he had to admit that he had the face of an older boy, one who would be learning to hunt and to trade. But he was so _small_.

“What’s your name?” Tommy asked before Adam could voice any of his thoughts.

“Dale,” the boy said.

Adam furrowed his brow. The only Dale he recalled was Mara’s boy, but he would have to be close to eleven, twelve years now, and this one had the stature of one who was seven or eight, at most.

Tommy reached out, brushed a hair from the boy’s forehead and didn’t seem to care when Dale jerked away. “Well, Dale, I’m Tommy, and I’m in the mood to tell a story. Would you like to hear one?”

Dale edged a little closer, though he kept his torso twisted away. “Why don’t you tell one to Prince Adam?” he asked.

Tommy cast a look at Adam over his shoulder and grinned. “Adam wants to hear it, too,” he said. “Don’t you, Adam?”

Put like that, it wasn’t like Adam could truly refuse. He glowered at Tommy for a moment before making himself at home, spreading his cloak for them to sit on. Tommy took a seat on a raised portion of stone, facing them both, and began:

“Long, long ago, when the mountain was still young and the sun not yet tired of her journey, there lived a beautiful woman named Ilaina.”

Tommy glanced down at the boy and grinned. “Ilaina was the most beautiful woman in the mountain’s shadow. In fact, if you climbed to the top of the mountain on a clear and sunny day and searched as far as the eye could see, you would not have been able to find a woman more beautiful than Ilaina. No one could or ever would compare to her beauty.”

Adam frowned and kicked at Tommy’s ankle.

The other man winked at him before turning his attention back to the boy before him. “She was the most beautiful woman there was, but she also had a good heart, and she was in love with a man called Nior who was not as beautiful, but had just as good a soul.”

There were footsteps clambering along the corridor, and Adam turned to face the direction it was coming from, rising onto one knee. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tommy finger the knife at his belt, one hand resting on Dale’s shoulder to push him to safety if need be. Dale of course lifted his fists as well, not that Adam had much confidence in his ability to protect himself. But he was a child of the mountain, after all.

They stood, poised, waiting, but the figure that finally came into view was only Elia, Sasha’s son, with his little sister in tow. He was only six, as far as Adam knew, and already several inches taller than Dale, but when he saw the scene before him he nevertheless burst into a grin.

“Prince Adam,” he beamed, and Adam blinked. He hadn’t thought the boy even knew his name.

“What are you doing?” Elia pressed. Lianne, his sister, clung to his leg, and he dragged her forward.

Adam couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s eager expression. “Well, Tommy here was just telling Dale and me a story,” he said, gesturing at the man in question.

“A story?”Elia rounded on Tommy in delight. “Can we hear, too?”

“Of course,” Tommy said despite Dale’s scowl. He nodded at the fabric beneath his feet. “Here. Come sit.”

The boy did, eagerly, drawing his knees to his chest and gazing up at Tommy expectantly. Lianne climbed into Adam’s lap instead, a decision which made Dale roll his eyes once more and Tommy snicker quietly, but she, too, only had eyes for Tommy.

“Like I said,” Tommy continued, voice deepening once more, “Ilaina was a beautiful woman with a beautiful soul, and her chosen companion was the good, hardworking Nior. But while Nior was a good man, who worked hard for his keep and always respected the laws and other people’s property, he was also not a rich man, and Ilaina’s parents knew how beautiful she was. They wanted power more than anything, and if Ilaina married Nior, they would have neither a daughter nor any money or power to satisfy them.”

“But what’s the money for?” Elia interrupted.

Dale, unnoticed, rolled his eyes yet again, flushing when Adam frowned at him.

“Everybody knows money doesn’t buy anything on the mountain,” the younger boy insisted.

“It doesn’t, no,” Tommy admitted. “But Ilaina wasn’t from the mountain. In fact, nobody lived on the mountain at the time.” He smiled when Elia wrinkled his nose at the concept. “Ilaina was one of the plains people, and down in the towns and villages, money can buy a lot.

“So Ilaina’s parents arranged for her to marry a rich merchant.Ilaina was heartbroken, because she was a good daughter and wanted to make her parents happy, but she loved Nior and knew she could never be with anyone else. When she told Nior what had happened, he was as distraught as she, and the two lovers devised a plan: They would run away together, far away, where no one knew them, where no one cared that they were poor as long as they were happy together.

“But of course, as these things go, it was not that easy.Ilaina’s parents caught her trying to sneak out of the house and they alerted the merchant. She ran, Nior at her side, away into the dark forest, but the merchant sent horses after them.When Nior fell and twisted his ankle, Ilaina knew they needed help. So she fell to her knees and she prayed for the spirits to save them, to keep them from the rich merchant’s clutches forever. And the spirits did.”

He looked over at Adam, eyes dark, solemn. “The spirits turned them into trees,” he said. “Two tall, strong trees, growing side by side, branches just short of touching one another. And it worked. The rich merchant searched the forest for a long, long time, stomped around the two trees, sat in their shade, but in the end he had to admit defeat and return home. And Ilaina and Nior remained there, two trees, side by side. Together, yet separated forever.”

The two boys looked suitably solemn at that, but Adam could hardly suppress a shudder. That particular story had given him nightmares as a child; the thought of being so close to a loved one and yet forever parted still sometimes sent shivers down his spine.

But Tommy, it seemed, knew a different story than he did.

“Many, many years after Ilaina and Nior became part of the forest, when they had all but forgotten what it felt like to be human, there lived a man named Calden. Now Calden, he was a thief.”

“A thief?”Elia echoed with wide eyes.

Tommy grinned at him. “Yes, a thief. But Calden wasn’t a bad man, you see. He was poor and his young wife was with child, and he had asked everyone he knew for just a day’s labor so he could bring his family some food. But no one had work for him, because times were hard and men and women were so terrified of losing what little they had that they kept it from everyone else, hid it away from prying eyes, lied to their friends and condemned them to the very fate they were so afraid to meet.”

Tommy looked around, at the three – four, if Adam counted himself – pairs of eyes watching his every movement. Lianne snuck her finger into her mouth and leaned more heavily against Adam’s arm, smacking her lips around the digit. Her mother would no doubt scold her for it, but Adam was loathe to disturb the comfortable mood.

“So Calden,” Tommy continued, “our hero, was forced to become a thief. One day, in desperation, he hid a loaf of bread in the folds of his clothing. He thought for sure he would be caught, his heart hammering so loud he thought the birds down by the creak would startle and fly away. But do you know what happened?”

He leaned forward, almost nose-to-nose with Dave and Elia, neither of which so much as blinked.

Lianne managed a little querying noise, her eyes drooping shut, body melting against Adam’s chest.

Tommy winked at the two boys. “Nothing,” he said. “No one saw him, or said anything, and when Calden brought home the loaf of bread, his wife was so overjoyed that he did it again. He took some apples from the farmer, some cheese, he kept a copper coin that someone dropped between the market stalls. He and his wife could eat, even spare a little to save for the ever-looming winter, and their life was good.”

Adam couldn’t suppress a small noise of disapproval at that.

Tommy shot him a look that was clearly annoyed, but his story continued uninterrupted.

“But no such luck could last, as no luck ever does. Before long, Calden was spotted sliding beautiful yellow pears into his cloak and he had to run. He knew the penalty for stealing was severe, so he, tears in his eyes, had to collect his wife at home and the two fled with barely the clothes on their backs. They hurried as fast as they could, but Calden’s wife was pregnant and the guards had horses, and they were closing in fast.”

Both boys shuffled in closer, eyes fixed on Tommy’s face. Even Lianne gripped Adam’s sleeve a little tighter, although Adam was sure she was too young to really understand what they were saying.

“Calden,” Tommy went on, “Calden cried out to the wind and the trees for help, and what trees should they stand under but our enchanted lovers? And Ilaina and Nior, they understood the lovers’ grief. They remembered their own, you see, at not being able to be with one another, and while their memories of their human lives were little more than shadows now, they could still remember the pain that they had felt at being separated. So they bowed down their branches for Calden and his wife to climb into and lifted them high, high into the air, so high the farmers and the guards didn’t even think to look for them. And there they stayed for long, long days, afraid to climb back down for fear that they would still be caught. They were too far away to touch each other, and at night it was so dark they could barely see their own feet, so they sang to each other, quietly, so quietly even the birds mistook it for nothing more than wind. And there they stayed for four days and nights while the guards searched the forest floor below them, with nothing to eat and nothing to drink but dew drops in the morning, until it was safe for them to climb back down.”

“Four days?” Dale cut in, too caught up in the story to care about posturing, and Tommy nodded.

“Four days,” he said. “But finally the guards gave up their search and they were safe, and Ilaina and Nior lowered them gently to the ground. And Calden and his wife, they climbed high into the mountains, so high no one would ever be able to find them, and there they had a daughter, and then a boy, and they vowed never to return to the world that had treated them so harshly, and to cherish the gift that Ilaina and Nior had given them.”

Elia cheered at that, and even Dale joined in before he remembered himself.

“I have to go,” he said, climbing to his feet. He cut a glance at Adam. “Thank you for the story, Tommy,” he said.

Elia agreed even as he lifted his sleeping sister out of Adam’s arms and slung her over his shoulder, and when Tommy dismissed them with a smile, they wandered away, Dale taking care to stay away from the younger boy. No doubt it would not do for them to be seen as friends.

“What did you think?” Tommy asked, turning to Adam, who shook his head even as he bent down to retrieve his cloak.

“I think that entire last part stems from your imagination.”

Tommy laughed at that. “The stories we tell on the mountain are a little different from the ones you tell below.”

“I gathered that.”

Tommy peered over his shoulder at Adam’s tone, a small frown forming between his brows. “You disagree with my story, then?”

Adam pursed his lips. “I’m not sure I should allow you to teach our children that stealing is acceptable.”

Tommy leaned his head against Adam’s shoulder and rolled his eyes. “That’s not what the story is about,” he said. “It doesn’t say that stealing is acceptable. It merely says that sometimes, you have to do whatever it takes to stay alive.”

There wasn’t much Adam could say to that, not knowing what he did, so he fitted his arm around Tommy’s waist and gave it a light tug. “It must be time for midday meal if the little ones are getting sleepy.”

“I imagine.” Tommy ran a hand through his hair, strands falling in disarray in its wake. “I promised Sasha I would join her on her hunt,” he said. But he didn’t move away, just stood there, breathing Adam’s air, looking up at him with wide, brown eyes.

“Promise me you’ll return safely, then,” he said, not quite meeting Tommy’s eyes. “I imagine Dale would be quite heartbroken if he didn’t get to hear at least one more story.”

Tommy smiled a little. “Yes, I imagine he would be.”

He still didn’t move away, and Adam reached up and tweaked his nose. “No wonder he likes you. You’re barely taller than he is.”

Quick as a wildcat, Tommy smacked Adam’s arm. “I’m leaving,” he said with a haughty tone that did not disguise the laughter in his voice, and Adam watched him stride away, gracefully, fluidly, his mind on wicked things.

He was about to follow the other man down the corridor, find something to occupy his mind with for a time, when a clear, high voice called, “My Lord Adam.”

It was Dale, chest heaving with exertion, yet his face a mask of determination. Before Adam could react, the boy had fallen to his knees and pressed a kiss to Adam’s knuckles. “I pledge my allegiance, my Lord,” he said, quick and breathless, clutching Adam’s hand in his as though afraid Adam might try to snatch it away.

Which Adam did, though slowly, carefully. He appreciated the offer, but there was no way he could have a child, especially one as helpless as this one, among his advisors. “Dale,” he said, and the boy’s face crumpled, though it remained dry.

Adam tried on a smile. “You’re young, still. You don’t have to pledge allegiance for many years.”

The boy’s face fell, though he was quick to hide his feelings behind a nod and pained smile. He gestured behind himself, and Adam let him go with a nod, watched him take quick, short strides far, far away from the scene of his humiliation.

“Dale,” he called, and the boy turned back, a hopeful smile intruding on his downcast expression.

“I will gladly accept in a few years’ time,” he said, and the boy nodded, contentment and disappointment on his face in equal measures.

“Thank you, my Lord Adam,” he said, stiffly, formally, and ran down the corridor without even waiting for Adam to dismiss him.


	3. Part 3

One morning, Ginger poked her head into Adam’s chamber when his friends had already departed for breakfast, Adam lagging behind to fix a broken leather strap on his pants.

“The hunters found an uprooted tree out in the woods,” she said. “Dry. We’re bringing it in now.”

“We’ll be there,” Adam called after her, groping amidst the bedding for his boots. Dry, fallen trees were rare on the Mountain, and they needed to hurry if they wanted it inside before the wood was ruined by the storm clouds slowly gathering around them.

It was a ragtag group of people heading out into the forest that day, Adam and his friends, some men, some women, a few of the older, well-muscled children. Each and every one of them was needed to pick the tree apart, and they still needed a good two days before they were able to store the last of the pieces in one of the lower caves. Adam was one of the last to deposit his load, as was Neil. Tommy had been there before them, but the section he had been piling wood on had collapsed from the looks of it, and he was still there, pushing the logs into an untidy heap.

Neil hesitated in the walkway when Adam made no move to follow him. “You coming, Adam?” he asked.

“You go ahead,” Adam replied, and he thought he saw a smile creep over Tommy’s face at the words.

“Suit yourself,” Neil muttered, but he left them alone.

Adam surveyed the wood they had amassed while Tommy finished his task. He wasn’t sure the man had been one of the hunters to find the fallen tree, but whoever had deserved a hearty meal tonight. Dry, burnable wood was hard to come by in a region regularly ravaged by winter storms and snowmelt. They felled trees sometimes, when they were desperate, but especially with the Greymen searching the area for signs of life, it was best to avoid such obvious marks of human activity as a tree cut down for firewood.

“Thanks for the help,” Tommy said drolly, picking up the lamp at the entrance, and Adam cut him a glance.

“You had it well in hand,” Adam assured him.

“I’m glad you think so,” Tommy said and took a step outside, peering at the abandoned tunnels leading off into the darkness.

“Up this way,” Adam told him, gesturing towards the one leading upwards.

“What’s down here?” Tommy asked and veered off down a side corridor without waiting for Adam’s reply.

“Not all tunnels are in use,” Adam told him, catching up with a few long strides. “Some are too small, some too corroded.” He gestured with his hand, encompassing the network of tunnels before them. “These, we’ve had to abandon because there isn’t enough air. One or two people could survive down here, but not all of us.”

The lantern in Tommy’s hand cast flickering shadows on the walls.

“We mainly use them for storage now.”

“Store what?” Tommy asked. He paused to peer into a cavern, but turned to face Adam expectantly when he found it empty.

“Firewood.” Adam pointed back the way they came. “Some food. Weapons. Furs and fabric. Anything that can survive the damp and the cold.”

“Weapons, hm?” Tommy resumed his aimless ambling. “I’ve seen you fight, you know,” he said. “You’re good.”

“Are you?” Adam asked, forgoing the way the compliment had his insides warming with pleasure.

Tommy blinked at him for a moment before he started laughing. “Good with a bow and arrow, yes,” he said. “Knives, I can handle. Anything longer than that, and I’m more likely to injure myself than an opponent.” He ran his fingers over the wall. “It is quite damp down here.”

“Most food spoils,” Adam said. “I could teach you.”

“No.”

Adam crooked an eyebrow. “The best way to overcome a weakness is to face it,” he said.

“Maybe I just don’t want you to see how bad I really am,” Tommy replied.

“Come on.” Adam confronted Tommy with his most winning smile. “We’ll take Monte and Isaac along. You’ll be amazed at how quickly you’ll learn.”

“Definitely not.” Tommy laughed – at him, Adam had a feeling. “I might be willing to let you witness my utter ineptitude at sword fighting, but that doesn’t mean anyone else will get to see it.”

“You cannot be as bad as you make yourself out to be,” Adam insisted.

Tommy laughed again. “You’d be surprised,” he said. He hesitated when his foot clinked against something made of metal and lifted the lantern higher. “What is this place?”

There wasn’t much to see, but Adam still waited as Tommy took in the barren walls, the metal loops set deep into the ground.

“It’s where we keep suspected traitors before their trial,” he said. He waited for Tommy to pale and wasn’t disappointed.

The other man took a hasty step backwards. “You keep people here?” he asked.

“Not for long.” Adam’s tone was grim. “After their trial, they’re either set free for put to death immediately.”

Tommy swallowed. “And do you find them innocent often?”

“None that I can remember,” Adam admitted.

“I can’t – I can’t be here,” Tommy whispered, and then he turned and walked, quickly, quietly, back the way they had come. He managed to get several yards down the corridor before Adam reached his side.

“Tommy. Tommy, hey.” Adam caught Tommy’s hand and pulled him around to face him. “Tommy, it’s okay.”

“Sorry,” Tommy said. “Sorry, I just – I need some air.”

“It’s fine,” Adam said. He curled a careful arm around Tommy’s back. “Let’s go back, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Tommy repeated. “I’m still not used to being inside, you know? And the thought of being locked up down here…”

“Come on,” Adam said, guiding Tommy forward. He could feel Tommy’s shoulders shake ever so minutely and gave them a squeeze. “You know, there’s one flaw in my fighting that I’ve never been able to overcome,” he said.

Tommy blinked at him.

“My left,” Adam said. “I always keep my elbow too high. I’ve been training with Isaac and Monte, but I can never manage to protect my side.” He gave Tommy a little shake. “Sometimes I’m amazed I haven’t gotten myself killed yet.”

It worked: Tommy managed a – small, tremulous – smile. “Maybe you should teach me,” he said. “It’d be a good thing to know, right?”

Adam grinned at him. “We’ll make a fighter out of you yet,” he said. “I promise.”

Adam didn’t have a chance to fulfill his promise for another few days, partly because there was the harvest to oversee and partly because Tommy tended to conveniently disappear whenever Adam had a moment, but he finally managed to drag both of them down to the clearing on an overcast afternoon.

Adam handed Tommy a practice blade and drew his own sword. If Tommy were one of the mountain’s children, Adam would have brought along a couple of sturdy sticks, but Tommy was a man, and a hunter at that. It was always best to learn with the true weight of a weapon in his hands, and Tommy was a warrior – Adam would do him no service, only disrespect, by assuming he would be unable to handle a blade.

Tommy held the weapon well enough, glancing over his shoulder as if to reassure himself they were still alone. Adam had offered one more time to bring Monte and Isaac with them, and Tommy had declined once again, so now it was just the two of them, facing each other across the open space.

“I can’t promise I’ll keep up with you for very long,” Tommy cautioned as he took his stance.

Adam glanced up at the cloud-laden sky for a moment before he focused on Tommy. “I doubt we’ll be able to practice for very long,” he said. “There’ll be rain soon.”

“What a shame,” Tommy said, and Adam laughed.

“We’ll go slow,” he said. “This is the basic strike.”

They went through several attacks and blocks, elementary maneuvers, before they sparred, Adam taking care not to overwhelm Tommy with speed and complexity of movement. Tommy was breathing hard but he didn’t complain, running through the exercises Adam showed him again and again, and he threw what little he had into their brief sparring sessions. He wasn’t particularly gifted, but he was undoubtedly getting better at it, and Adam was about to call a break and congratulate him when the other man, unexpectedly, feinted right and then swung left.

There was a moment when Adam could see it, could see Tommy’s blade slice into his unprotected side, right where Adam had told him to look for it. It would be so easy for Tommy – a moment’s inattention on Adam’s part, a heat of the moment decision on Tommy’s, and the mountain would be without an heir, at no one’s fault but Adam’s own. Tommy would be subjected to whispers and scornful looks, but life on the mountain was vicious, and his people would move on soon enough, forgetting all about the prince who had been stupid enough to reveal the one chink in his armor to a foreigner.

Adam could see it so clearly, and then Tommy turned his blade at the very last moment, smacking the flat of it against Adam’s hip. It stung, and Adam took a step back, Tommy following his lead.

“You’ll want to keep that protected,” Tommy said, lightly, but there was a question in his eyes.

Adam nodded, once, and Tommy let out a sharp breath.

“Again?” he asked, and Adam held his sword at the ready in response.

By the end of the day, Adam’s side was a dark, angry red, but he had blocked the last four swipes Tommy had made at him and couldn’t help the grin spreading over his face. Tommy was in less of a good mood, having been knocked to the ground by Adam time and time again, and when he picked himself up out of the dirt for the final time, his hand idly rubbed over his no doubt aching back.

“I don’t think I’m much of a sword fighter,” he said. “I’m better with a bow and arrow.”

“It’s a matter of practice, really,” Adam said, but he knew, and he had no doubt that Tommy knew he knew, that Tommy simply did not have the talent. With practice, lots and lots of practice, he would be able to become a decent warrior, but he lacked the natural ability to quickly pick up the movements. He lacked the instincts of when to dodge and when to lunge, the instincts that told him what his opponent was thinking, all of which were vital to being a great fighter.

“I’ll stick to hunting, I think,” Tommy said. He handed the borrowed sword to Adam, who wiped it down with a cloth before he used that same rag to blot the sweat from his forehead.

“There’s nothing wrong with hunting,” Adam said. He tossed a grin in Tommy’s direction. “All fighters need to eat, after all.”

Tommy laughed, tongue darting out between his teeth, and Adam ushered him towards the overhang. “Let’s head inside, it’s starting to rain.”

They made it inside just as the first burst of lightning split the sky, followed seconds later by a crash of thunder. The wind whipped icy rain after them, and they shuffled another few steps back.

“Man,” Tommy said. “I wouldn’t want to be a Greyman in this weather.”

Adam turned to him. “What do you mean?” he asked, a sharp note creeping into his voice. Did Tommy know something about the Greymen that Adam didn’t?

“Just, you know.” Tommy shrugged without meeting his eyes. “They’re out there in the open somewhere, aren’t they? I think I’m going to go dry off.” He reached up and squeezed Adam’s shoulder briefly. “Thanks for the lesson.”

He was gone before Adam could regain his footing, and although he could hear Tommy’s footsteps somewhere in front of him all the way up to their living quarters, he never quite managed to catch up.

It wasn’t long before the single, fat drops had turned into a downpour, the sound of water hitting rock audible throughout the caverns. Adam stopped at his own quarters to stow away the training blade and found Monte, Isaac, and Cassidy huddled over a game of Rocks, peering down at the colored pieces intently. He watched as Monte set down a red one and picked up one of the green, depositing it on the pile in front of him, and Isaac groaned.

“Man,” he protested, and Adam chuckled.

“Did he tell you he’s no good at that game?” he asked. “Because that’s a blatant lie.”

“We’re playing for one of Isaac’s carving knives,” Monte said. “Shut up.”

“I’m going,” Adam said, raising his hands. “Have any of you seen Allison?”

“She went up to the spy hole,” Cassidy said. “Where the guards keep watch.”

“I know where the spy hole is,” Adam called back, but none of the three men paid him any attention.

It wasn’t hard to find Allison. The guards had all but abandoned their post, huddling around a bend to protect themselves from the rain, but Allison sat perched at the edge of the opening, peering down at where not so long ago, the four of them had stood, staring up.

She glanced over her shoulder when Adam came closer. “What a weather,” she said.

“Thunder storms usually don’t make it this far inland,” Adam replied, sinking down opposite her, back to the wall.

“I’ve missed them.” Allison cut him a quick glance, laughed softly. “That’s stupid, right? A stupid thing to miss?”

“When we were down at the seaboard, you know what I missed?” Adam stretched out one leg, poked her thigh with his toes. He grinned. “Snow. Winters here are the most painful thing you can imagine, and yet there I was, sitting in the sand, wishing for snow.”

Allison tucked her hands underneath her thighs. “Does it snow a lot here, then?”

“Lots.” Adam nodded. “Higher than you’re tall. If I go out, I’ll sink in up to my neck.”

She laughed. “You’re a liar,” she said.

“Maybe.” Adam winked at her. “But how are you going to prove it?”

She didn’t reply, dropping her gaze the way she did when there was something she wasn’t saying, and Adam felt a sudden, rare, burst of panic.

“You like it here, right?” he asked. “You’re not secretly wishing you hadn’t decided to come with me?”

“I like it,” she assured him. She reached over and tucked a strand of dark hair behind his ear. “I just need to get used to the idea that all those crazy adventures are now over.”

Adam had to swallow against the lump in his throat. He missed them too, of course, those long, hard, dirty days that had nevertheless been full of laughter. But he was home, at least – he was surrounded by friends and family. Sometimes he forgot that all this was as strange and foreign to his friends as his people imagined the places beyond the plains to be.

“We can have other crazy adventures,” he offered.

“I’m sure we will,” she told him softly. “Just – give us some time, Adam, alright? A little time to adjust.”

“I will,” Adam said. “And anytime you need anything, I’ll be there for you. I promise.”

She nodded, and he grinned.“And right now, you know what we need? Tea.”

“Tea?” she repeated.

“Nice, hot, steaming tea,” Adam corrected her. “Because I’m getting cold sitting here on this damp rock, and if I’m cold, you must be well on the way to freezing.”

“I am a little cold,” she admitted, and laughed when Adam lifted her bodily off the ground and onto her feet.

“Off we go, then,” he said, and told her such outrageous lies about the healing powers of tea that she was still laughing when they reached the council hall. She had her arm tucked around his, head thrown back, but she quickly fell silent at the sight of the King’s Council,   
huddled close together. The king had his arm around the queen, listening intently though his eyes were turned away as she spoke.

Adam gave Allison’s arm a light tug when she slowed. “Come,” he said.

“Should we really be here?” she whispered to him, and he smiled at her.

“We should.” He pulled her forwards. “This will be us, one day. It will be you.”

Marcus stepped aside when they approached and Adam settled himself on the ground at his father’s feet, pulling Allison down with him, a clear sign that he had no intent to interfere with their discussion.

His father’s hand settled on his shoulder. “I’ve sent out a patrol,” he said. “They’ve reported that the Greymen have followed the Green River inland, away from the Mountain. They’ve burned the village at the foot of Lizard’s Rock to the ground.”

“Now they’ve turned their horses back towards the Mountain,” Sarah, the grey-haired woman with an impish gleam in her eyes added. “They’re not riding hard, but if they know where they’re headed, they could be here in only a few days.”

Adam could feel Allison’s hand tighten on his arm, and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“We have no proof that they know where they’re headed,” Marcus said, forcefully, as if he’d said it before. “And even if they do, they would need to beat the mountain before they could get to us.”

“They could never beat the mountain,” Sarah said. “But they don’t have to. All they have to do is seal off our exits, and we’ll starve.”

“Maybe if it were spring, yes.” All eyes turned to the queen, who smiled mildly. “If the weather was warming and we were low on supplies, yes, that would be cause for concern. But winter is coming hard and fast, and we’ve already gathered most of what we need. Even sealed in, we would only need to wait, while the Greymen would have to battle us as well as the season.”

“There is another option,” the king said. “We’ve only discussed hiding from them or battling them outright, but we could send out a messenger to meet them. Simply ask them why they’re here.”

He looked around, but his advisors all shook their heads.

“We would never agree with their terms,” Marcus said. “Not when they’re razing settlements to the ground. So why bother asking?”

“We cannot bed down with the enemy,” Sarah said, and Adam thought this might have been the first time he had witnessed the woman and Marcus agreeing on anything.

“We cannot ensure that our messengers would return unharmed,” the queen added, and smiled in Allison’s direction when Adam’s friend turned wide eyes on her.

“I’d say that’s a resounding no,” the king said. He turned to Adam. “What about you, my Prince?” he asked. “Do you agree with my advisors?”

Slowly, Adam nodded. “If we ride out to meet them,” he said, “it only proves to the Greymen that we are close by, and perceive them as a threat. I say, better to let them doubt their search and their impact, leave them on uneven footing, than assure them that their scare tactic is working.”

The king nodded, a smile gracing his lips before he raised his head to face his advisors. “So we prepare for a siege,” he said. “Keep the children inside. Let no one travel to far, but gather all provision available close by. We will not let the Greymen catch us off-guard.”

“Yes, my King,” they echoed, and Adam drew Allison upwards and away while the council began to divide tasks that still needed to be done.

“Let’s get you some of that tea,” he said quietly, and she nodded just as quietly in return.

Adam had two baskets full of fresh nuts under his arms when he rounded a corner to find Tommy sitting on a rise with a little girl in his lap. Lianne, Sasha’s youngest – barely old enough to toddle after her mother, but with a fierce scowl for anyone who dared step in her way. In Tommy’s arms, however, she seemed content, idly tugging at the lacing at his throat, and Tommy seemed to have nothing but smiles for the little girl. He smiled at Adam, too, when he caught sight of him leaning against the corridor’s wall, pointing him out to the girl and whispering something in her ear.

She wasn’t particularly interested, reaching up to toy with Tommy’s hair instead, and Tommy grinned as he pulled away.

“I’ve never seen you with a child,” Adam remarked.

Tommy shrugged, tickled the girl with a finger when she made a sleepy noise of protest. “Not many place as unconditional a trust in a mountain runner as you do,” he said. “I’m not constantly surrounded by women asking me to hold their children.”

Recognizing the teasing for what it was, Adam winked at him. “I’m simply irresistible,” he said. “How can I help it if every woman wants to draw me into her family?”

“One day, they will realize how utterly uninterested you are,” Tommy muttered, more to himself than Adam it seemed.

Nevertheless, Adam bit his lip at the sharp note in Tommy’s voice. “I will have a family one day,” he said. “I must. Or at least an heir to take my place.”

Tommy’s gaze dropped to his lap. “I know that,” he said.

Adam reached down to cup Tommy’s chin, tilt his face upwards into the light. “You must also know that I have no desire to be with a woman.”

Tommy’s eyes remained stubbornly averted. “I do,” he said. “But you must. To have an heir.”

Adam kissed him before he could think better of it, sealing his lips over Tommy’s for only a moment before he pulled away. “That doesn’t mean I want to,” he reminded the other man firmly.

Tommy gazed at him, eyes dark, unreadable. He didn’t say anything, but Adam didn’t need him to, to know that it had not been a good time. He and Tommy, they needed space, and quiet, time to let it all unfold. It wasn’t right here, like this, in a hectic corridor with a child clinging to Tommy’s arm.

Still, when Tommy’s lips curled into a smile, Adam knew that they had reached an understanding. Tommy would wait for him, now, until the time was right, until they could let everything happen the way it was meant to be.

A few days later, there was another gathering in the council hall. Not a feast, not that grand, but the days were growing short and there was little else to do at night but sit in one another’s company, some working still in the fire’s light, others dancing and laughing and drinking.

Tommy’s head fit neatly underneath Adam’s shoulder, ear pressed against the curve of his ribs. One hand toyed idly with the pendants hanging from Adam’s neck while he watched the going-ons around them, the girls and women dancing with their scarves and the people pressed to the walls to give them room, lazy with good food and heady drink.

Allison lay pillowed against Adam’s other side, her leg slung over his hip, knee occasionally nudging Tommy’s. She had nicked a flagon from somewhere that she kept passing across, watching Tommy take a swallow before reaching for the drink herself. Tommy had to have noticed the looks she kept giving him, and yet he seemed content to lay pressed to Adam’s side, body warm against Adam’s from shoulder to hip.

Adam smiled lazily when Monte knelt on the ground next to him, raising his brows at the way they lay, entangled. “Busy day?” he asked, and Adam grinned.

“Quite.”

Monte snorted, gesturing for Allison’s flask and taking a large drink before sliding back to lean against the wall behind them, watching the festivities with keen eyes.

Allison held the flask out once again. When Tommy merely turned his head away, she tilted her head back and took a large swig.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” Tommy asked.

Allison took another swallow and nodded seriously. “And then I’m going to make you tell me what’s on the other side of the mountain.”

Tommy glanced at Adam, grinning. “No luck, I’m afraid,” he said. “I’ll need to be a whole lot drunker than this.”

“But _I_ can’t drink anymore,” Allison said mournfully.

“Then stop,” Adam cut in for the first time, taking the bottle away despite Allison’s noise of protest.

Mara, one of the dancing women, must have seen the exchange, because a few moments later she was by their side, offering to teach Allison the moves of the dance.

Allison pushed to her feet. “Sounds awesome,” she said, beaming. “You coming, Tommy?” she asked.

Mara hesitated, caught Adam’s gaze but he shrugged. “This is a dance for women,” she cautioned.

“So?” Allison demanded, shifting a little unsteadily on her feet.

Mara turned to Tommy who merely shrugged as well.

Shaking her head, she gestured them towards the dancers.

Allison laughed and tugged Tommy with her, and to Adam’s perhaps unwarranted surprise Tommy went, accepting a scarf from one of the chuckling women.

It came as little surprise that both he and Allison were uncoordinated and clumsy, but they were obviously having a good time, and no else appeared to mind. Adam watched them for a moment, smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He turned to Monte, taking a quick swallow from his own cup, about to share a laugh about their two friends with the other man, when Sophia crouched down next to him, a jug in her hands.

“More mead, Adam?”she asked.

Adam very nearly choked on his drink at that, because Sophia had always been the kind of person who would sooner empty Adam’s mug and force him to go for a refill than offer to serve him. But her eyes were not even on him, gaze fixed on Isaac even as she poured more golden liquid into Adam’s offered cup.

“Isaac?” Adam prompted.

Isaac lifted his mug, as captivated by Sophia as she appeared to be by him. The woman wasted no time stepping over Adam’s legs. She refilled Isaac’s mug quickly, only half-empty from the looks of it, set the jug down and spread her skirts out neatly as she settled down.

Adam turned to share a quick grin with Monte. _Children_ , he mouthed.

A moment later, Monte slipped into place beside him. “I’m fairly sure you’re younger than most people here,” he said.

Adam laughed. “But I’m a Prince of the Mountain. You can’t talk to me like that.”

“I’ll talk to you however I want, boy,” Monte said, Adam grinned at him in return, and that was that.

“Neil, stop,” Adam said, not for the first time, but at least this time it worked.

His brother fell silent, jaw set in a hard line, eyes blazing.

Adam glanced over his shoulder, but there was no one beside them at the stream running through the cavern but two children, and they didn’t look like they cared very much what the Prince and his brother were quietly arguing about.

“I mean it,” he said. “I don’t want to hear it anymore.”

“I won’t stop saying it just because you have blinders on,” Neil insisted, trying on an earnest tone for the first time since he’d cornered Adam. “We don’t know anything about him,” he insisted. “He could be dangerous. What if he sells us out to the Greymen?”

“How could he?” Adam snapped back. “By telling them where to find us? Neil, if they don’t already know, chances are still high they’ll discover us eventually.”

“What if he tells them where the map is?” Neil pressed.

Adam shook his head. “How would he know?”

“Maybe he does.” Neil ran his fingers through his scraggly hair. “It’s not exactly a well-kept secret.”

“Well enough,” Adam reminded him. “It’s not like we tell it to everyone who happens to pass through.”

Neil crossed his arms, his previously mutinous expression now suspiciously close to a pout, and he wouldn’t quite meet Adam’s eyes.

“And,” Adam continued, “even assuming that Tommy is the kind of person who would betray the people who have offered him food and shelter and a home, weren’t you the one proposing we make a deal with the Greymen in the first place? To rid ourselves of them?”

“What, I can’t learn?” Neil rolled his eyes, no doubt at the dubious expression Adam couldn’t quite keep off his face. “I sat in on Father’s council a few times. I don’t think making deals with Greymen is a good idea.”

“Anymore.”

“Anymore,” Neil conceded. “Oh, stop looking at me like that. I thought you wanted me to grow up.”

“I do.” Adam fixed his brother with a serious look. “And part of that would be to stop bad-mouthing Tommy every chance you get.”

Neil sighed, loudly, and Adam gritted his teeth.

“He’s not a bad guy, you know.”

“I know you think that.” Neil closed his hand over Adam’s arm and squeezed tight. “But all you see, all you talk about, is Tommy. You’re so blind with desire, he could be selling us off to the Greymen one by one, and you wouldn’t believe it.”

“Watch your tone,” Adam said, pushing Neil aside.

“I’m serious, Adam,” his brother called after him, but Adam had heard enough.

He stalked down the corridors, scowling when he found himself keeping a look-out for Tommy, and veered off to find his advisors instead. He found them surrounded by a group of children, a long piece of fabric hung across the cavern. Monte sat on the ground with a carving knife, creating what appeared to be an entire zoo of wooden animals, and Adam raised an eyebrow at them all.

Grinning wide, Allison tugged on her tunic. It was diagonally striped, in bright colors, and it was so like her that Adam could feel a smile tug at his lips despite his sour mood.

“We’re putting on a play for them,” she told him. “We told them they could each keep one of them afterwards.”

And sure enough, Isaac was currently walking a little horse and an even tinier man across the top of the fabric, narrating their journey in a high-pitched voice. Allison picked up a rendering of a woman and joined him, and Monte, who had glanced over at her, gave Adam a quick smile before he bent back over his work.

Adam ran his fingers over the artfully carved figurines: The slow, horse-like creature that had faithfully carried them across the desert but left them sore for days; the enormous fish they had found washed up on the beach; the beetle that had, in reality, shimmered a bright, bluish green.

“These are gorgeous,” he said, looking up at his friend.

“I used to carve for my daughters,” Monte told him, and then Isaac said something that had all the children in the room jeer and laugh, and before Adam had time to press for more, Monte had turned away.

The play ended amidst much laughter and applause, and then a frantic rush to the small zoo Monte had set up. Dozens of little bodies pressed towards the figurines, and others clung to Monte’s shirt, begging him for this or that, and Monte found himself pressed against the stone behind him while Allison and Isaac had wisely chosen to flee to the far wall.

“Where did they all come from?” Monte called to Adam over the ruckus.

“They live here,” Adam called back, laughing, and Monte’s eyes went large before he turned to yank away a half-finished figurine from Carrie’s greedy fingers.

It seemed to take forever, but eventually even the pickiest child was satisfied, and even a few adults who had come to see what the fuss was about, and only the four of them were left. Allison laid her feet in Adam’s lap and Isaac sat down to oil the leather straps for his knives while Monte absently worked on a miniature of the tall trees that had provided some much-needed shade for them at the seaboard.

“What’s wrong, Adam?” Monte eventually asked. “You don’t usually come to sit with us.”

Adam felt a stab of guilt at his words, however innocently spoken. It was true – he’d been shamefully neglecting his friends, after he’d dragged them away from everything they’d ever known, and they weren’t even angry with him. They were concerned about him instead, and that just made everything worse.

“Do you think I spent too much time with Tommy?” he asked.

Monte looked up from the animal he was carving, face blank, but Isaac behind him didn’t bother to hide his snort. Allison glared at him before she gently covered Adam’s hand with her own, which Adam took to be a bad sign.

“Well, it depends,” she said. “You, like, _like_ him, right?”

Adam dropped his gaze for a moment before he met hers again, earnestly. “But I don’t want you to feel as if I’ve abandoned you for a pretty face. You’re my friends. I’ve brought you here with me, and we’ve been through too much together for me to do that.”

Monte shook his head. “We’re all adults, Adam,” he said. He cut a glance at Allison. “Mostly. But we can handle you having a little crush.”

Allison nodded even as Adam grimaced at Monte’s words. “We’re not upset about anything,” she assured him. “It’s just weird, that’s all. It was just the four of us for so long, and now there are all these people laying claim to you.”

“I know.” Adam sighed. “Maybe we should do something tonight,” he said, looking up hopefully. “Just the four of us, and something strong to drink. Like old times.”

“No Tommy?” Isaac asked dubiously.

“No Tommy,” Adam nodded, steeling his heart to do so.

“Are you going to sing?” Allison asked, voice going high with excitement.

“I’ll sing,” Adam told her.

And he did.

His friends might have been overwhelmed by the sheer number of young ones vying for one of their carved animals, but for Adam, it was the norm. There were always children under the mountain. Romance blossomed hard and fast, and most women had already had a child or two by the time they reached Adam’s age. But they rarely had time to watch over their offspring, their days long and hard. As a result, Adam had been taking care of children almost since he himself had been an infant. That was simply the way it was on the mountain – you were always needed and useful, no matter how old you were. Children cared for children just as parents did.

So it was no surprise that Tommy found him one day with two little boys in his arms, both struggling to get away, to see what was going on. Adam tried hard to keep them both in check, but one of them stuck his hand in Adam’s mouth and the other yanked on his hair, and of course that was when Neil walked by.

“Oh Adam, hold my baby,” he said, high-pitched and shrill, and Tommy burst out laughing.

He sobered at Adam’s look and took one of the boys from him, holding him until their mother came to claim them. As soon as he was free of his burden, Adam sank to the ground, stretching his tired legs out in front of him.

Smiling sympathetically, Tommy seated himself in Adam’s lap and gave him a sweet, soft kiss that Adam couldn’t help but deepen. And then Neil, returning from whatever errand he had been running, shook his head at the two of them, and Adam glowered at the back of his brother’s head.

Tommy followed Adam’s gaze and grinned, winding his arms – wiry and firm from years of archery, and yet so slight – around Adam’s neck. “He’ll get over it,” he whispered into Adam’s hair.

Adam sighed. “He’s being childish, I know. But somehow I still want to apologize.”  
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Tommy reminded him gently, but that didn’t stop Adam from feeling like he had.

Isaac didn’t like Tommy.

It took Adam a while to figure it out, because the two tended to avoid each other, or when they couldn’t, both remained silent. Adam had no doubt that they did this for his sake, was grateful for it, but it still bothered him more than he liked to admit. He admired Isaac, his brashness, his attitude, but Tommy had sneaked in under his defenses. He wanted them to get along.

He could have thanked the spirits, if he believed in them, that at least Tommy and his other advisors got along. Allison and Tommy seemed to have found something special in one another. They didn’t talk much, Adam didn’t think, or at least Tommy didn’t, but it was a rare day when they didn’t sit somewhere, heads together like two children thinking up a prank, whispering and laughing, yet pretending nothing had happened when Adam asked. They danced together and laughed and sang, and it warmed Adam inside to see it.

What Monte saw in Tommy, Adam wasn’t sure. They didn’t seem to speak to each other much. Sometimes Tommy came to sit by Monte when the man was quiet. Once, when Adam was oiling the leather straps on his saddle, Monte was constructing some sort of instrument out of wood and wires, and when Tommy came over to take a look, began to explain what he was doing. He spoke of resonance and sound, how there needed to be tension on the wires or else it wouldn’t work.

“Like the string of a bow,” Tommy said.

Monte glanced up at him, eyes wide; a moment later, a wide grin broke out across his face. “That’s right,” he said. “Just like the string of a bow.”

Adam bowed his head back over his leather. He didn’t know what Monte saw in Tommy, but it appeared to be doing both of them good. There was something relaxed and easy about Monte like this, sitting with the instrument in his lap, Tommy crouched by his side. A moment of calm for a man who was all tension and coiled muscles.

It was good to see.

And then, overnight, the cold came. Adam woke early one morning to find that the horses were being brought inside since the grass was stiff with frozen dew. He tried to speak to Cassidy only to find that the man was too busy stitching cloaks and mending coats to even look up from his work. Tommy sat cross-legged on their furs, sharpening his knives and arrow tips for a last bout of hunting before winter crept down from the mountain to stay. Monte joined a group of men and women that went out to collect some more firewood before it grew too damp, decked out in a heavy cloak and hat, and even Isaac could be convinced to wear gloves that protected his talented fingers from the weather.

Over his jacket lined with animal fur, Tommy had taken to wearing a heavy woolen cloak that swept behind him as he strode along the corridors. It was from a coarse, dark green cloth, and when Tommy stood still, it fell around his body, cloaking him completely, like the tree people from legends.

Adam asked Isaac to make a sturdier pair of boots, as well, and the man did, for Adam’s sake if not for Tommy’s. The look of sheer delight on Tommy’s face had been well worth it, however, even after Tommy looked up at him with some trepidation and mumbled, “I can’t hunt in these, though. They’re too heavy.”

“Hunting season is nearly over,” Adam reminded him. “You’ll go out, what, once, twice? We’re prepared for the winter, and you should be, too.”

“Come with me?” Tommy asked, boots still in his hand, and Adam found himself nodding without even having to think about it.

The grass was stiff beneath their feet when they set out, dewdrops frozen around the blades. Tommy led the way, quiet and self-assured, his boots – his hunting boots, still, despite the cold – silent on the ground. When they reached a small clearing, grass growing amidst the brush, Tommy swung himself up into a tree. Adam climbed after him, his bigger bulk causing him some difficulties, sitting down on a broad branch, facing Tommy. The smaller man didn’t protest when Adam wrapped his hands around Tommy’s thighs and pulled him half into his lap, just kept his hand on his bow and returned Adam’s gaze when Adam’s eyes found his.

Every gust of breath hung in the air between them.

Adam leaned in first, pressing his lips to Tommy’s. The man’s nose was cold, red from the crisp air, when it brushed against Adam’s cheek. Tommy drew back a little but allowed Adam to chase him, reaching up to wrap his free arm around Adam’s neck and bury his fingers in Adam’s hair. They kissed quietly, silently, despite the chill hanging in the air between them. Adam lost himself in the feel, in the touch, in a way he rarely allowed himself to, and he startled when Tommy suddenly pulled back.

The other man pressed his finger to his lips before Adam could ask. He nodded into the clearing. There, grazing fitfully, was a doe – several years old, from the looks of her, had probably been the mother of several young. She was alone, and beautiful, a warm brown against the frosty grey of the forest.

Tommy twisted in his lap to pull an arrow from his quiver, lifted his bow. He drew back his arm, elbow raised ever so slightly above his ear, and let the arrow fly, sinking it singing into the doe’s heart.

She collapsed without a sound, or perhaps she was merely too far away to hear.

Tommy let the bow sink without the satisfaction he had shown at the market. “We’ll need to get her quickly,” he said. “The predators are preparing for winter. They won’t take long to find her.”

“In a moment,” Adam said. He turned Tommy’s face with his hands, leaned their foreheads together. “You’re extraordinary,” he whispered, and Tommy laughed, but his hands came up to cover Adam’s as well as his small fingers could.

They carried the doe to the outcrop in the rock face where she could be hoisted upwards, didn’t already begin preparing her because they could use everything, now that winter was coming and supplies would be scarce. As soon as she was out of sight and Stacy gave them the sign that they could leave, Tommy slung his bow over his shoulder.

“Shall we head back?” he asked.

“In a little while.” Adam took Tommy’s hand in his. “There’s somewhere I’d like to go, first.”

Tommy’s eyes went wide when they ducked past a few undergrown trees to find a pond on the other side, water clear and deep, with a large boulder almost entirely submerged on one side of it.

Adam grinned at him. “Get in,” he said, tilting his head towards the still pool of water.

“You want us to bathe?” Tommy said, with a tone that clearly implied what he thought of the idea.

Adam grinned at him. “I do,” he said. “Winter is coming. We should take advantage while we still can.”

“I think I see ice forming on the other shore,” Tommy said, but Adam merely rolled his eyes. For all Tommy was a hardened mountain runner, Adam would have assumed he was used to a little cold water.

“Not this cold,” Tommy protested when Adam informed him of his thoughts. “Mountain runners know how hard life can be. There is no need for us to subject ourselves to unnecessary torture.”

Nevertheless, even as the words left his mouth, Tommy unbelted his tunic and unlaced his boots. His pants and shirt, he let fall at the shore’s edge, and by the time Adam had removed his boots and hung his own pants over a low branch to keep them clean, Tommy had already waded into the water.

Adam turned at the other man’s gasp to see Tommy waist-high in the pool, fingers curled in the air, mouth open like the cold had sucked the laughter out of him mid-moment. It occurred to him then that he had never seen Tommy in anything less than a full shirt, and that he had not expected him to have lines of ink running all the way from his shoulders down to his wrists. Adam had seen it before, but never like this; never patterns and sweeping lines that drew the eye into a wild and breathless dance, dragging from his wrists to his shoulder blades and back again. He hadn’t known such a thing was possible, but he wasn’t surprised that it suited Tommy well.

The man himself only slowly managed to dip his arms into the water. “It’s cold!” he said, looking back at Adam with wide eyes.

Adam slipped his tunic up over his head and draped it over the branch as well, tugging here and there to avoid creases. “It is,” he said. “It will be too cold for bathing soon, so enjoy it while you can.”

“Interesting how you yourself are still on shore,” Tommy commented, turning to face him fully. His gaze flickered down Adam’s naked body before they settled back on his face, cheeks heating.

Adam returned the favor, and that was when he noticed the scar on Tommy’s upper belly. It was stark against his white skin, purple from the cold, and vicious, almost a finger long and thick. There was no way it could have been an accident.

Tommy, alerted by Adam’s silence, followed his gaze. “I hurt him in return,” he said. A moment later, he plunged deeper into the pond, hiding the scar and most of his tattoos behind a murky layer of water. “Are you coming, then?” he asked without meeting Adam’s eyes.

Adam obliged him, wading into the water slowly. It was cold enough to curl his toes, but it felt good, too. Refreshing. One last reprieve, one moment of quiet before several months of being confined into narrow corridors and crowded caverns with dozens of others.

“And you call me a weakling,” Tommy commented, eyeing Adam who was still only up to his knees in water.

In retaliation, Adam threw himself forward. Feeling the water close over his head was like a solid punch to the chest, but Tommy’s shriek of outrage was more than worth it.

“You are incorrigible,” Tommy protested.

“And cute,” Adam added with a smirk.

“And insufferable.”

Adam slipped backwards, submerging himself all the way to his neck when Tommy, arms wrapped around his middle, made for the shore.

“I might need until spring to warm up again,” he said over his shoulder, fixing Adam with a stern look.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Lay down on the rock,” he said. “The stone is hot, still. You’ll be fine.”

The other man rolled his eyes but obeyed, flattening himself to the surface of the boulder and rubbing his cheek against the sun-warmed surface.

Grinning, Adam waded over, leaned his elbows on the rock, not caring much that the water clinging to his skin formed dark stains on the surface. Tommy rewarded him with a disgruntled frown that only lasted until Adam reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind a small, decorated ear.

Adam pressed his lips to Tommy’s, smiling when the other man allowed his tongue to slip inside despite the goose bumps forming on his skin. This, here, was worth the cold. It was worth everything.

Tommy was still shivering when they had found their way back into the dark corridors, arms tucked firmly around himself despite Adam’s cloak slung over his shoulders. Adam himself could feel the chill of the water all the way down to his bones, but that didn’t matter because Tommy pressed up against Adam’s side, a small, eager smile blossoming on his face every time he caught Adam’s gaze.

He greeted a few people as they passed; Gareth, Sophia, old Miriam with her own and someone else’s child. They each carried lanterns and Adam asked for one of them, ignoring Tommy’s questioning gaze when he passed it over to the other man.

“We’ll need it to find our way,” he told him once Miriam had gone.

Tommy, shrugging, made towards the cavern in which they usually slept, the two of them with Allison and Isaac and Monte, but Adam caught his hand and tugged. “This way,” he answered Tommy’s questioning look.

The mountain had endless caverns, some too small to use, others unstable, dangerous. With his arm tight around Tommy’s shoulders, Adam found one he had claimed for himself in his younger years, a place to be by himself or with another person. The ceiling was low, the entrance even lower, but there were furs spread out across the floor and stubs of candles on each rocky ledge, used, cold wax cascading along the sides.

“Light the candles, please,” he said to Tommy. He himself tugged one of the furs free and draped it over the entrance, tucking its edges into cracks and crevices to secure its position. When he turned, Tommy had sprawled out on the stack of furs in the candles’ golden glow, legs falling open in an invitation Adam wasn’t sure Tommy was aware of.

Nevertheless, Adam intended to take it.

He went to his knees, carefully so as not to spook the other man, and leaned down to kiss him again, propped up on his hands. Tommy was pliant against him, loose and relaxed, though his skin was still chilled and his nose rubbed red from his attempts to stop it from running.

He could hear people talking, laughing, but they were far away, and Tommy was right underneath him, watching him with wide, dark eyes. Suddenly breathless, Adam’s fingers found the waistband of Tommy’s pants underneath his tunic, slipped between fabric and skin and pulling a little. Tommy smiled, cheeks slowly flushing pink, then red, but he complied with the unspoken question, slipped out of his pants and kicked them down to rest between their feet. Adam gripped Tommy’s knee, slid his hand upwards, along the smooth, white skin towards the place where hip met thigh.

Tommy opened for him easily, a gasp that wasn’t so much smothered as it was silent. One of his hands came up to grip the fabric of his shirt, catching several of the dangling necklaces, and Adam grinned at him. Tommy tugged a little, urging him closer, pressed a kiss underneath Adam’s jaw and arched his stomach upwards.

Adam took the hint, running his hand possessively over the smooth skin for a moment before slipping it underneath, lifting Tommy towards him, his own hips moving in counterpoint. It was slow, but it wasn’t gentle. Tommy gasped with every movement, no more than a puff of air against Adam’s neck, his fingers digging into Adam’s back. Adam didn’t mind the pain –he doubted he would have minded anything if it meant seeing Tommy’s face fall apart in pleasure the way it did.

Even after, when they lay side by side, silent but content, Tommy’s face was lax and tension-free in a way it wasn’t usually. His fingers slid over Adam’s ribs, slowly, gently, too firm to be teasing. It wouldn’t be long before it lulled him to sleep. He ought to get up, remove the fur to make sure air could circulate, confirm that Monte and Isaac and Allison had made it to bed all right, but his limbs were warm and slow and he could feel Tommy’s cheek pressed to his side, hot breath damp against his shirt, and everything else could wait until tomorrow.

Adam woke to footsteps pounding closer and had his dagger in his hand before he even opened his eyes. He barely relaxed his grip on the weapon when he saw that it was Monte, because the man was pale and tense when he pushed aside the fur still draped over the entrance. Beside him, Tommy was stiff as a board, a small knife gripped tightly in the hand that rested oh-so-casually on Adam’s hip.

“You’re wanted,” Monte said quietly, but it was to Tommy, not Adam.

The council hall was crowded with people when they arrived; though their chatter died down the moment Tommy stepped through the entrance.

“You summoned me?” Tommy asked, voice quiet and even, though Adam could see his hands shake.

“There have been some concerns,” Adam’s father hedged.

Beside him, the queen reassuringly squeezed his arm.

“About the Greymen at our door, and your involvement with them,” the king continued.

“What involvement?” Tommy asked, at the same time as Adam cut in, “What Greymen?”

“The ones searching for an entrance outside,” Neil said.

Adam cast a look at his brother, leaning against the wall by their parents’ throne with his arms crossed in front of his chest. His smug expression died when he caught Adam’s gaze.

“And you think I had something to do with that?” Tommy asked, voice flipping.

“Didn’t you?” It was the queen this time, pale but serious. “You’re new to us, we don’t know you. Every time you accompany someone into town, you disappear for hours. You go out alone and bring back nothing as proof that you were out hunting.”

“What are you saying?” Tommy asked. He sounded like he was pleading.

“We think you lead them here,” Neil said, when nobody else would.

“That is ridiculous,” Tommy said. “Why would I lead them here? This is the only home I have left.”

“So you say,” Adam’s father said, and Tommy, open-mouthed, fell silent.

The king smiled grimly. “Who’s to say you’ve not found a home with the Greymen, and are doing everything in your power to ensure their loyalty to you?”

“Swear my loyalty to Greymen?” Tommy asked, voice deadly quiet, and Marcus shifted on his feet.

“We have no proof your family died the way you say they did,” he said.

“That’s what you think?” Tommy asked, turning on his feet.

No one met his eyes, but no one spoke up in his defense either.

“It’s decided, then,” the king said, forcing himself to look at Tommy.

“It isn’t,” Adam cut in, because he’d be damned before he allowed this to just happen. “Tommy deserves a fair trial, _as per our laws_. This is not the time for this.”

“We can’t just allow him to roam our halls,” Neil said, challenging.

Adam shook his head, even as Tommy turned to look at him with large, fearful eyes. “So we lock him up. Wait with this until after we have taken care of the Greymen. They are what we ought to worry about right now, not about who’s to blame.”

Neil looked like he wanted to argue, but then the king nodded, once. “So we shall,” he said. “Adam, go take care of Tommy. My council, it is time to act.”


	4. Part 4

“Please don’t do this.”

Adam shook his head, kept his head down to avoid meeting Tommy’s eyes.

They were deep, deep down in the tunnels, where no one ever went. Tommy had kept silent the entire way down, but when Adam had stopped at one of the cast-iron rings in the ground and unbuckled a pair of chains that he threaded through it, Tommy’s resolve just seemed to crumble.

“You know I didn’t do it,” Tommy said.

Adam splayed his fingers across the other man's cheek, his thumb sealing Tommy's trembling lips. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, sliding closed the lock around one thin, pale wrist. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The agitation in the council hall had not cooled by the time Adam returned. Those who were not rushing aimlessly about, getting underfoot, appeared to be quite content to out-scream the others for their reasoning to be heard. It was disgraceful. They were a warrior people, and here they were, acting like a group of startled children.

“How would they even get inside?” Neil asked, cutting off Marcus mid-word. “We’ve always defended ourselves and our home in the past.”

“Perhaps, but it isn’t impossible to breach our walls,” Marcus shot back. “If you’re not careful, my boy, your attitude will lead to our downfall.”

It wasn’t until the king ordered anyone who wasn’t within his inner circle, including his sons, out of the hall that some semblance of order returned. Adam returned to his cavern, unwilling to face Neil after all this, and found himself confronted with Isaac, Monte and Allison instead.

“Is Tommy okay?” Allison asked immediately.

Adam nodded slowly and couldn’t help but notice the quiet breath that Monte let out at the news.

“Should he be?” Isaac asked. “The man did betray us.”

Adam didn’t reply.

He wasn’t surprised when Isaac understood. “You don’t think he betrayed us.”

Adam met his eyes, slowly. He didn’t have to say anything.

“Why are you so sure about that?” Isaac burst out. “You don’t know him.”

“I know him well enough,” Adam said. He deliberately unclenched his hands. “Why are you so sure he did?”

Isaac didn’t answer that, and eventually Adam rose to his feet. They had a battle to prepare for.

For two long days, the mountain was in an uproar. There were weapons to be sharpened, supplies to stash away, defenses to build. Their horses were sent into the forest, hopefully to be found again when everything was over. Monte and Adam, both strong, muscular men, were needed to move a boulder that would block the crevice that allowed entrance to their little garden. Stacy had taken possession of Allison, teaching her rudimentary fighting skills that would hopefully keep her alive.

Adam was in the lower corridors, searching for areas that could be used to set up traps, thinking that perhaps he could go see Tommy. He went twice a day, bringing food and water and stroking over Tommy’s increasingly matted hair, but he found himself wondering if a third time would truly hurt when Isaac came up behind him.

“What is it?” Adam asked once the hammering of his heart had slowed.

“Do you hear that?” Isaac asked, finger pointed upwards though the sound echoed towards them from below.

Adam did, and once he recognized the sound, his heart ached like someone had crushed it underneath the heel of a boot. “He’s singing,” he said.

Isaac’s eyes were lidded and dark, and Adam was sure that it was anger he saw glittering there.

“I would not have thought he would be so brazen.”

Adam shook his head. “It’s not that,” he said. He turned to give Isaac a look. “He’s alone in the dark, and everyone is against him. He’s terrified.”

It wasn’t much. It was probably stupid, even, but when Adam saw the once-white dog limping through the corridors, teased by several restless children, he had an idea. He swooped the dog into his arms, sending the children off with a few stern words, and headed into the dark, following the sound of the increasingly hoarse singing.

Tommy’s voice faltered when Adam was close enough for his footsteps to be heard.

“It’s only me,” he called, stomach clenching.

Tommy’s rusty laugh answered him, but when Adam came close enough to see, Tommy sat pressed against the wall but with a small smile on his face. A small furrow formed between his eyes when he caught sight of Adam’s cargo, but he didn’t ask.

“Here,” Adam said, crouching down and pressing the dog into Tommy’s arms. He didn’t know what else to say, how to undo the council’s angry words with a mangled pet and a smile, but Tommy curled his fingers into the matted fur. His gaze flicked from the dog to Adam, then back to the dog when it nosed against Tommy’s arm.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, and this time when he looked at Adam, the smile on his face was genuine.

Adam couldn’t help it; he leaned in and kissed it away. “You’ll be alright,” he promised once again when he pulled away. “I’ll make sure of that.”

The Greymen came towards nightfall, swords drawn and a battering ram at the ready. Neil paled next to Adam when the council received the news, but there was nothing to be done about it now. About any of it.

Their father the king looked down at his hands for a moment before he stood, hand resting on his sword. A moment later, their mother did the same.

“We’ve been preparing for this,” he said, voice even, though his hand shook before he clenched it around his weapon. “We’re ready for this, and we will fight.”

The council responded with a raggedy cheer that Adam couldn’t bring himself to utter. Instead, as soon as his father began issuing orders, he headed out of the hall with long, sweeping strides.

“Where are you going?” Isaac asked, falling in step next to him.

“To get Tommy,” Adam said. He didn’t have to see Isaac’s expression to know what the man wasn’t saying, and he couldn’t quite been the edge out of his tone. “On the off-chance that I’m right and they’re wrong, I’d rather he not be tied up and defenseless.”

Isaac slowed his pace. “I’ll be with Allison and Monte, then,” he said, and there was an accusation in his tone that Adam didn’t have time for.

Still, he turned to face his friend. “I’ll meet you,” he said. “When I have Tommy, I’ll meet you.”

Isaac nodded and whirled away, and Adam began walking again, faster even than before.

“Tommy,” he called, before he was even close enough. “Tommy!”

“Adam?” Tommy’s voice was high and breathy, his fingers white in the dog’s fur. “What’s going on?”

Adam dropped to the ground and undid the lock with easy, practiced movements. “Greymen,” he said. “They’re here.”

Tommy hitched a breath, but Adam didn’t have time, sliding a hand under Tommy’s arm and pulling him to his feet.

“Can you walk?” he asked. “It’s not safe here.”

Tommy pulled the dog into his arms. “I’ll try,” he said. His feet were unsteady under him for a few moments but then he picked up the pace, keeping even with Adam’s long strides.

“We’ll head-“ Adam began when there was suddenly a Greyman in the corridor in front of them, weapon drawn and ready.

Tommy took a hasty step backwards, hampered by his grip on the dog, and Adam had to throw himself forward to block a swipe at Tommy’s side with his own sword. The Greyman feinted right and swung at Adam’s left, but Adam was trained now, prepared, and the force of his blow sent the other man’s sword skittering aside before he regained control and attacked again. Adam parried and blocked, but the corridor was narrow and multiple times he had to avoid Tommy skittering behind him, and it was luck more than anything when he managed a thrust that penetrated the leather covering the Greyman’s chest.

He pulled Tommy away from the dying man and into a short, dead-end corridor. There was a large crevice around chest height, and Adam nodded towards it. “The dog will be fine in there,” he said.

He gestured for the animal, frowning when Tommy clutched it even more tightly to his chest.

“He’ll be fine,” he said. “I promise. Certainly safer than with you.”

“How will he be fine in there?” Tommy asked stubbornly.

They didn’t have time for this. Adam pulled Tommy against his chest, almost crushing the dog between them, and brought his lips to Tommy’s ear. “Where do you think our children are?” he asked.

Tommy gazed at the hole, understanding dawning in his eyes, and Adam nodded, once. He held out his arms and Tommy handed the dog over this time, biting his lip as Adam lifted it into the crevice and pushed it forward.

“Go on,” he said, and the dog whined but disappeared.

Tommy watched it go for a moment before he shook himself, grew hard. “Let’s go,” he said.

They walked quickly upwards, startling every time they heard a noise echoing from somewhere. After the second time, Adam remembered to hand Tommy one of his knives. He had grown so used to the other man being armed that he had not thought about the fact that he been stripped of all weapons when the council had branded him traitor.

The knife came in useful when they came across three Greymen that had cornered Sasha and Jeremy. Adam got one from the back, jerking the heavy body into the blade with an arm around the neck. Tommy wounded one, tossed the knife to Sasha so she could take him down while Adam took care of the third.

Sasha took a heavy breath, wiped the blade on her thigh. “We heard some of the children were in trouble,” she said. “That’s where we’re going.”

Adam hesitated. “I have to go find my friends,” he said. “Neil. My parents.”

Tommy nodded. “I’ll go with them.” His fingers found Adam’s arm and squeezed. “Go.”

With one last look over his shoulder, Adam went, sword at the ready. Up here, the fighting was evident. Blood stained the ground. He had to step over several bodies, less than half of them clad in Greymen garb, to reach one of their main corridors. He burst into a room where several Greymen held a struggling Monte and cut one down, Monte striking down another, the two of them circling back to back to take care of the rest.

They found a solitary Greyman and took him down as well, moved past four or five of their own, lifeless on the ground. Adam made sure not to look, but he recognized a head of hair here, a tunic there, and it made his stomach clench.

Mara and one of the older boys, Laurent, had just taken down a Greyman when they reached them. A girl around Dale’s age but much too tall for the tunnels in the walls sat on the ground with a bleeding leg, and Adam had just reached down to help her up when he heard Monte shout. A blow to the head and he tipped forward, stunned, and when he had blinked the stars from his eyes his sword was gone and another aimed at his chest, the other four just as helpless as he.

The Greymen that had come in took great joy in pulling and shoving them towards the council hall where a small group of others waited. Adam saw Neil there, Allison, Marcus, huddled in a cluster against one of the walls. He hoped there were so few because no one else had been found yet, because the other option was too horrible to consider and his head throbbed in time with his footsteps.

The Greymen that remained in the hall with them watched them closely but didn’t try to harm them, and Adam spoke to those around him, ensuring everyone was alright. Every once in a while, others would be brought in, alone or in pairs, some bleeding, others cradling broken bones. Stacy had her arm snapped in front of them when she tried to punch one of her handlers, and Adam winced with her, but she refused to make a sound.

Tommy was shoved in by himself. The skin around his mouth and nose was stained red, and that was undoubtedly a bruise forming at his hairline, but Adam kept his mouth tightly closed. Making his feelings on the matter known was unlikely to help anyone. He wanted to call out to Tommy, to scream at them to stop touching him, but he knew better than to allow them to find out his private attachments.

Instead, he had to settle for stepping aside when Tommy was shoved into their small group of people, immediately sealing the gap after him, his broad shoulders hiding the other man from view.

There was a commotion at the entrance, Greymen moving aside to let someone through, and then a man appeared in their midst, two big, burly Greymen flanking him.

Adam felt more than heard Tommy’s breath quicken behind him. A moment later, Tommy’s forehead came to rest between his shoulder blades, damp air ghosting against the fabric of Adam’s shirt in a rapid, uneven pattern.

He reached behind him, found Tommy’s thigh and gave it a small squeeze.

“My name is Olivier,” the man said, as though that was the only explanation needed. Maybe it was.

He wasn’t a particularly tall man. Not many men looked tall to Adam, even fewer women, but this one was maybe a few fingers’ width taller than Tommy. But he had broad, strong shoulders, noticeable despite the dark cloak he wore, and a full head and beard of grey-black hair. Adam guessed him to be about his father’s age, same wrinkles forming along his eyes, but he also had a long, thick scar along one cheekbone, cleanly healed but wicked.

“I’m so glad we’re all here together,” the man said, smiling, as if they were friends. “I am Olivier, and these,” toward his legion of grey-clad henchmen, “are my men. I’m sure you’ve been acquainted.”

He chuckled at his own words, raising an eyebrow when no one else appeared to find them funny. “So dull,” Adam heard him murmur.

Olivier walked along their group slowly, meeting each face before dismissing it and moving on. His eyes hesitated on Tommy, narrowing, and Tommy’s breath caught, but then Olivier’s eyes flickered over to Adam. There was a fire in them, a mad fire that unsettled even Adam. Blood thirst, he could deal with. This was something else.

Olivier stroked his fingers slowly over his chin. “You are Prince Adam?”

Adam nodded stiffly.

The other man smiled at him, slowly, mean satisfaction in his eyes. “Congratulations. You are now prince regent.”

For a moment, the man’s words barely even registered. Then understanding curled thick and heavy in Adam’s belly, clawing at his insides and threatening to spill out of his mouth. His eyes cut to Neil across the room, saw his brother’s face turned ashen. The king and queen were dead, then, slaughtered by Greymen for no reason beyond greed and villainy. For a deranged man’s entertainment.

Only Tommy’s hot breath, barely noticeable but _there_ between his shoulder blades, kept Adam from doing something he might regret. He was Prince, King of the Mountain now. His people needed him to stay calm.

“Why do this?” he asked, though he wanted nothing more than to rip this man’s throat out with his hands. “What do we have that you can’t ask for peacefully?”

Grinning broadly, Olivier gestured in the air. “There is a rumor,” he said. “Hearsay, you might argue. A rumor that the people of the mountain own a map; one that tells you how to cross the ridge without falling prey to the many treacherous things that await a caravan traveling along the pass.”

“A rumor, yes,” Adam said.

The man turned to give him a scathing look. “Don’t take me for a fool, Prince Adam,” he said. “I have gone through a lot of trouble to ensure that these rumors have a grain of truth to them, and I intend to discover that grain and use it to cross these mountains.”

Adam could hardly believe the man’s words. “All this,” he said, waving a hand to encompass his bleeding, dying people. “All this for passage across the mountain? Why not just ask a mountain runner?”

“Ah, yes.” Olivier pursed his lips. “The mountain runners. As it turns out, they can be quite difficult, and tend to turn down perfectly valid offers for passage for no apparent reason.”

“This,” Adam said, gesturing at the bloody, beaten people around him, “is a damn good reason. We won’t cooperate.”

“Is that so?” Olivier’s pleased tone had Adam shifting uneasily.

Olivier leveled a look towards them, smirking lightly. “You see, not so long ago, a little bird told me something interesting about these tunnels. The tunnels in the walls.”

Adam knew his eyes were wide with horror. He tried hard not to let it show, but then Olivier gestured for a torch and held it close to one of the safety tunnel’s entrance. “So, let’s try this again: Tell me where the map is, or every one of your children dies.”

“We will never give you what you want,” Adam said, but then Tommy pushed past him, arm brushing against Adam’s elbow, and took a stance before the group despite the three Greymen that immediately crowded close.

“I know where it is,” he said.

Instead of outraged cries, Adam’s people fell silent. Try as he might, Adam couldn’t get his own mouth to even move. Tommy certainly noticed, shifting on his feet, but he didn’t take back his betrayal.

Olivier’s face lit up in delight. “Tommy,” he said, holding out his hand with a mocking little bow. “My darling. I knew you’d come to your senses.”

Although Adam didn’t mean to, he felt his body stiffen. This… no. But there was only one explanation for Olivier knowing Tommy’s name, speaking it so casually, and that was that they already knew each other. He felt Isaac’s eyes boring into his back. And how very convenient that only minutes after Tommy had learned of their children’s hide-out, Olivier knew of it too, right after Tommy had left Adam’s sight.

Adam couldn’t help but remember the other things that the council had mentioned and he had refused to believe; his tendency to disappear whenever he went into town, often for hours, the fact that Greymen had begun sniffing around just after Tommy had come into their midst.  
It was just all so mightily _convenient_ for Tommy, and Adam had to fight to keep his hands clenched in the fabric of his pants.

"Adam, please." Tommy's words were soft, breathed back over his shoulder. "You have to trust me."

“Trust what?” Adam asked, nothing more than a murmur between the two of them. “That I was wrong about you after all?”

Tommy’s breath hitched, but a moment later, he took another step forward and fixed the impatiently waiting Olivier with a proud look. “Shall we?” he asked.

“Of course,” Olivier all but crowed, and within moments, he and two of his group had ushered Tommy into one of the dark corridors, but not before turning back to his men. “Smoke them out anyway,” he said, and Adam felt his insides turn to ice.

Isaac tried to knock out one of the Greymen while he was distracted but it only ended with Isaac moaning brokenly on the floor. The others among Olivier’s posse began to crowd Adam’s people together into a corner, and after a last, helpless look at Monte, Adam and Neil were dragged off in a different direction.

Adam should have perhaps been more surprised that they weren’t simply run through with knives, but instead, ironically, they were taken to where Tommy had been only hours before, pushed into a narrow cavern and chained to a ring in the ground, a lock around each of their wrists.

Neil was shaky and pale, still, but as soon as they were alone, Adam couldn’t help but sort through their options. No matter how angry he was, he wanted _out_.

There wasn’t much. Nothing to pick the lock was in sight, and even then, the chains would have still been heavy and difficult to wrench open. It was doubtful that anyone pleasant would burst through the walkway to the corridor. There was a crack in the rock around waist-height, one of the shafts that their children had hid in, were likely now dying in. It was small, and an adult would never fit through it.

Adam would have liked to bury his head in his hands, but the chain was too short, and it wasn’t as if it would have made him feel better. Neil fidgeted next to him, shifting his hands in the metal locks, and Adam had to fight to keep from screaming at him.

“What is it?” he asked instead when he couldn’t take the constant movement anymore, and Neil stilled.

After a moment, he spoke again. “Adam, I have to tell you something.”

Adam sighed, bit his lip. “What is it?” he asked. He’d much rather figure out a way to get out of here, to get his people to safety before he returned to wring Tommy’s scrawny little neck, than to listen to Neil’s ill-timed confessions.

But all that faded when he turned to look at Neil, really look, because he knew that expression on Neil’s face. The regret, the bone-crushing guilt that had been missing in Tommy’s eyes were clear as day in his brother’s.

He had to fight not to recoil when Neil reached for his arm.

"I told Aileen." Neil's fingers were icy against Adam's skin. “I told my girl.”

“Told her what?” Adam asked, although he already knew.

“Everything.” Neil swallowed a gasp when Adam’s fingers bit into his arm. “I told her everything. Everything about us. And that man, the one with the scar – I saw them together once. She said he was her uncle.”

“I don’t believe this,” Adam said without thinking as understanding finally rushed through him. How could he have been so stupid?

“Please, Adam, I’m sorry,” Neil said, breath hitching.

“No,” Adam said, clutching Neil’s arm tighter between his fingers. “Tommy – I thought it was just another trick, that they were going off to reconvene, but he was just buying us time. He has no idea where the map is. When they figure it out, they’re going to tear him apart.”

“Shit.” Neil pressed his free hand, balled into a fist, against his forehead. “Adam-“

Adam shushed him, pulled him close and pressed a kiss into his hair. “I know.”

They had not sat like that for more than a moment when a nearby noise caused him to stiffen. For a brief second, he was convinced that the Greymen were returning, were back to finish what they had started, but this wasn’t the heavy thud of boots. It sounded more like rodents scuttling along the forest floor.

“What-?” Neil asked. He fell silent when Adam shook his head, once.

The noise grew louder, and louder, and finally Adam’s eyes were drawn up to the crack in the wall. It was small, and an adult would never fit through it.

But a child…

Sure enough, moments later, a dusty brown shock of hair appeared in the opening, a familiar grin in place. Tommy’s mangled mutt followed a moment later, pushing his nose through the gap between boy and rock. There was a hopeful little smile on the boy’s face, and Adam would have hugged him to his chest if he could.

“Dale,” he breathed instead.

“My Prince,” the boy said. He bit his lip. “I’m here to help.”

“Good,” Adam said. “That’s good. Do you know where the others are? Can you get a message to them?”

The boy nodded. “Uh-huh. But first…” And to Adam’s complete and utter disbelief, he pulled a ring of keys from his waistband and held it in the air, the metal clinking quietly.

“I can’t believe it,” Neil murmured when Dale slid down from the crevice and knelt down on the ground before them. “You’re alright.”

“Of course.” Dale jiggled the first key into the lock at Adam’s right wrist, then the second. “We’re not stupid. Jaynie and Tyler put out the torches, and the rest of us took down one of the guards. I got the keys,” he added, after a moment.

“And I’m very thankful you did,” Adam said. “The other children are well?”

“Ye-ah.” Dale chewed on his lip. He slipped another key into the lock, and this one fit. “The little ones are coughing a lot, but we’re all alive. They’re trying to distract the other guards so the grown-ups can get free.”

“Tell them to be careful,” Adam warned him.

“We will be.”

The first of Adam’s cuffs clicked open, and he used his still-chained hand to rub away the numbness in his fingers. “Thank you, Dale,” he said. “I mean it, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The boy hesitated. “I pledge my allegiance, my Lord,” he said with a hopeful glance upwards from underneath the fringe of his hair.

“I accept,” Adam said wholeheartedly. “Can you free the others? Take care of the Greymen?”

Dale nodded. “What are you going to do?” he asked as the second lock fell open.

Adam set his mouth into a thin line. “I’m going to right a few wrongs,” he said. He got to his feet. “Dale, once Neil is free, return to the others. _Be careful._ Neil, I want you to get these Greymen out of my halls.” He hesitated, one hand on the rough rock. “Whatever happens, Tommy stays unharmed, you understand?”

“I understand,” Neil said, meeting Adam’s gaze with wide eyes, and Adam nodded.

“All the best,” he said. He was striding down the hall before Neil had the chance to return the greeting. He had things to take care of.

Tracking Tommy wasn’t easy. He had little to go on, merely a single corridor Tommy had been lead down while Adam was dragged away, and he had to dodge patrolling guards more often than he liked, but he knew these caves better than any Greyman every would.

He followed scuff marks, bloody hand prints, tracked and backtracked, and in what seemed like forever and no time at all, he heard Olivier’s sweet, mocking voice echo towards him.

Moving forward carefully to avoid alerting them to the sound of his scuffing boots, Adam pressed himself to the wall and inched forward until he had a clear view of the situation, half-hidden behind a raggedy piece of rock.

There were four men present, and none of them seemed to notice him. Olivier stood back, apparently watching with interest as Tommy struggled. The slight man was on his back, half propped against the sloping wall. Each of the two guards Olivier had thought to bring had a heavy boot on one of Tommy’s arms, threatening to snap the bone if he struggled too much. Blood had seeped through the side of his tunic, staining the rock behind him. Tommy was breathing hard through gritted teeth, and pale, but none of that mattered because he was still alive, glaring at Olivier with a fire that warmed Adam to his core. No one struggling to take his last breaths could glare that way.

Now it was Adam’s task to make sure it stayed that way.

Olivier had obviously not expected to run into any trouble – his right side and back were left entirely undefended, both he and his cronies too focused on Tommy to pay much attention to their surroundings. It was stupid, and sloppy, but Adam was not one to complain.

“So, in summary,” Olivier said, voice light but eyes on fire, “you don’t know where the map is after all?”

Adam shifted on his feet, pressing himself closer to the wall when Olivier moved, but the man only took another step towards Tommy. “Still think your prince is going to save you?” he asked.

Tommy took a breath that sounded almost like a gasp, but he didn’t avert his eyes. “You’ll meet your end one way or another,” he spat.

The Greyman crouched down, away from Tommy’s curled fists. “Undoubtedly.” He reached out, caressing the short stubble where Tommy’s head had been shaved, tightened his fingers in the pale strands when Tommy tried to pull away. “But you won’t be there to see it. You little brat.”

“Why do this?” Tommy jerked his head to the side, wincing when several hairs were left between Olivier’s fingers.

Adam couldn’t help flinching with him.

“What’s so important here that you couldn’t have just gone to other runners, made them a deal?”

Olivier shook his head mournfully. “And I thought you were smart.”He gestured around him, along the bare walls, but it was clear he meant so much more than that. “This, all of this? This is all your doing.”

“This is _your_ doing,” Tommy spat back. “I’ve never taken the life of another living person, and until you, I had never wanted to.”

“How precious.” Olivier moved to chuck Tommy under the chin, only pulling back at the last second when Tommy snapped at his fingers. The Greyman curled his hands into a protective fist. “You know, none of this would have happened if you hadn’t been such a stubborn little ass. You _and_ your family. First refusing us passage across the mountain, and then your pretty little sister, and then you had to go and ruin what could have been such a glorious day.”

“No day will be more glorious than the day you die,” Tommy hissed.

“You tell yourself that, darling,” Olivier said easily. He pushed to his feet, brushed imaginary dirt from his knees. “But remember that you’re the one on the ground, bleeding, while I’m the one with the weapon.” He pulled a knife from its scabbard on his belt, metal singing, and smiled a little. “In fact, while we’re here, I think I’ll pay you back for what you did to my face.”

Tommy blanched, and the man laughed ruefully, fingers coming up to ghost over the distorted flesh. “Yes, you did quite a little bit of damage. But you also left me a present, and I have of course decided to keep it.” He reached into the neck of his tunic with his free hand, disregarding Tommy’s increased struggling, and pulled out a small, sharp arrow tip on a leather cord.

“This is yours, you know,” he said, turning the weapon over and over between his fingers. “I keep it with me, to remind me that even the innocent, pretty ones can become quite a little nuisance.” He let the arrow tip drop against his chest, took a sudden, agile step forward and grasped Tommy’s hair in his fingers again, jerking his head to the side.

He lifted the blade, let it hover over Tommy’s eye, both cronies grinning gleefully at the terror on Tommy’s face, and Adam had had enough.

It was almost insultingly easy. None of the four men was prepared for Adam to burst out of hiding, run first one, then the other guard through with his sword and, turning, backhand Olivier with such force that the man’s head collided with the wall with a sickening crack. He crumpled to the ground like a doll, aware but dazed, and stared up at Adam, breathing hard.

Adam kept his eyes and the tip of his sword on him as he reached down a hand, felt Tommy cling to it and almost lifted the other man to his feet. Tommy clutched his arm for a moment before he let go, swaying ever so slightly, but with a slight nod that Adam caught out of the corner of his eyes, Tommy let him know that he was fine.

He turned back to Olivier who thankfully kept his mouth shut, and lifted his sword. He hesitated when he felt Tommy’s fingers fist in the back of his shirt, but the man didn’t say anything. He merely stood behind him, breathing hard, every ragged gulp of air twisting Adam’s heart a little further.

“This should be you,” Adam said finally. His eyes never left the man lying in the dirt at his feet. “The man to do this, it should be you.”

“I don’t want to,” Tommy said.

Adam glanced over his shoulder, and Tommy smiled at him, strained and uncertain as it was.

“I don’t,” he insisted.

And, well, Adam wasn’t about to question this unexpected blessing.

It wasn’t hard, burying the blade of his sword in Olivier’s body. Usually, the hardest part of killing was convincing yourself to go through with it, convincing yourself that it was really necessary to take another being’s life. Here, now, the movement came easily, the man’s aborted gasp the only sign that Adam had just killed someone.

Tommy’s hand tightened against his back, and he kept his head held unnaturally high, but he didn’t utter a sound of protest, not even when Adam knelt and pulled the cord free of the man’s neck.

Then he pulled Tommy away, because while what was done was done, it didn’t mean that Tommy had to see it in all its gruesome detail. He turned, expression serious, although he couldn’t help but be glad that it was all over now, and then he remembered the spread of blood across Tommy’s side.

“What-?” he asked when Tommy took a shuddering breath. “Are you-?”

“I’m okay. Just a-“ He hissed, pressed his hand against his side. “Just a scratch.”

“That’s good.”

They stood there for a moment, breathless, eyes locked.

Adam was the first to break the silence. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

“How could you do anything but.” Tommy smiled a little. “I’m sorry. I should have been honest with you.”

“You can be, still,” Adam said, offering a hand for Tommy to take. When the other man stepped closer, slid his fingers into Adam’s, he opened his other palm, revealing the arrow head on its leather cord.

“You should have this,” he said.

Tommy’s tongue snaked over his lips. After a moment, he nodded, head dropping forward to allow Adam to lay the cord around his neck. He didn’t resist when Adam kissed him, again and again, not even when Adam pressed him against the wall and slid a thigh between his legs.

They were still alive. Against all odds, despite everything, they were still alive. Adam had to swallow back tears and bile when he remembered how many others weren’t, but as painful as it was, that was natural. Normal, even. People were born, they lived, and then they died.

People died.

_People die_ was a mantra Adam repeated to himself often over the next few days. There were so many bodies to drag out of the corridors, so much blood to mop up. Neil was the one to find their mother, and he insisted on carrying her out to the gravesite himself. Adam was the one to hold him that night as he rocked and shook and sobbed out his anger, his guilt and his frustration. And it was Tommy who kept Adam upright with light, easy touches, a hand in the small of his back, slim fingers in his, or a smile, a knowing look cast his way. Tommy had his own guilt to carry, but he knew where to assign the blame.

Still, when he wasn’t at Adam’s side, silently supportive, Tommy worked harder than three others put together. He dug graves, he shoveled them closed. The hearth had been smashed in the fighting and Tommy lifted beams longer than he was, to clear them away. One time he struggled, clearly not able to carry the wood by himself but unwilling to ask for help, and Adam was about to call for Cassidy when Isaac was there, one end of the log at his feet, hands open.

“Alright, man?” he asked Tommy.

A look passed between them, slow and steady, and then Isaac reached down to grasp the other end and they lifted it upright together.

Moments like those were what kept Adam sane. He’d known, rationally, that many of their number had died, but it was another matter to lift up one limp body after another. Men and women alike had been struck down fighting. A few of the children had fallen ill from the thick smoke that lingered in the cracks, four of them had died. And they were two competent hands short as it was, considering Adam had sent Monte and Sasha into town to find Aileen, Neil’s girl. Find her through whatever means necessary.

They returned from their trip to town at nightfall of the third day, tired, grimy, and empty-handed.

“Aileen has disappeared,” Monte reported. “No one has seen her since the day before the Greymen arrived here, although there are rumors that she eloped with a man with a scar on his face.”

Gareth the guard shook his head. “She wasn’t with them when they arrived here,” he said. “I would have remembered seeing a woman.”

Adam scanned the grim, determined faces of his war council, so much fewer than he was used to, and bit his lip. Monte met his eyes and nodded without so much as a frown. He would do whatever Adam asked, but the decision would have to be Adam’s own. Gareth looked ready to drop his pack and run down the mountain barefoot if that meant getting his hands on the girl responsible. Cassidy didn’t glance up from his stitching, though his forehead was pulled into a tight, unhappy frown.

Neil wasn’t among the scarce number of people crowded around Adam’s new throne. He was out digging graves, still, with Tommy, and he would until someone went out to fetch him. It was nearing the full moon, one of the few nights when being outside after sunset was not a death sentence, and there were only a handful of graves to fill up now. Whoever wasn’t with Adam would be out there, scattering dirt and seeds to disguise the site of the graves, as much out of tradition as precaution. A well-marked graveyard was too uncommon a site – it would become a marker, a means as an end to locate the entrance to the mountain, and they needed to be invisible, now more than ever.

“We’ll find her,” Adam said, after almost every pair of eyes in his council had found his. “It can be Neil’s penance.”

He rose to his feet before anyone could question his words. “We’ll reconvene in the morning,” he said. He couldn’t deal with this any longer. He wasn’t a king, he was just a prince thrust into horrible conditions, and he didn’t even have Neil to help him because no one trusted Neil, now.

He walked away at that, because even if he wasn’t, his people _needed_ him to be king, and he could not let himself fall apart before their eyes.

He could hear hushed whispers at his back but no one dared follow him, and he was glad for it. He walked and walked, people scuttling out of his path once they saw the look on his face, until finally, he heard soft footsteps in his wake. Small, calloused fingers slid between his and squeezed.

“Saw you walking,” Tommy said, falling into step at his side. “Walking like the spirits were after you. Thought I’d say hello.”

Adam sighed, turned sharply into a small cavern and met Tommy’s concerned eyes and light smile.

“Why couldn’t Neil have just kept his goddamn mouth shut?” he asked.

Tommy tugged lightly on the fingers interlaced with his. He tilted his head and smiled. “Life doesn’t work that way, Adam, and you know it.”

He knew. That didn’t mean it was any easier to take.

He sat back when Tommy pushed him, slid down to rest against the cold stone. A moment later, Tommy climbed into his lap, soft yet darkly serious.

“I’d like to tell you something, if you don’t mind.”

Adam reached up and touched Tommy’s cheek. “Anything, you know that.”

Tommy nodded. Took a deep breath.“I wasn’t out hunting when my family was killed.”

“He remembered you,” Adam said.

Tommy nodded. “Life isn’t easy up there, you know?” he said. “We like it, the freedom, the opportunity, but we live with our parents, our siblings, sometimes our children, confined together so we won’t freeze to death in the winter. We hunt for meat and leather, sometimes we fell trees, but we don’t own _things_.”

He reached down to toy with one of Adam’s pendants, and Adam stroked slowly down his back, settled his hands on Tommy’s sharp hip bones.

“We don’t want for much, you have to believe me. Beads and colors and heavy cloaks, they’re nice, but they’re not necessary. We runners, we have our bodies, and when our bodies fail us, or become damaged, then our lives are over.” He glanced upwards, gaze held by Adam’s own. “Our body is all we have.”

He looked down at Adam’s hands closed over his hips, but he didn’t ask Adam to take them away and Adam didn’t offer.

Instead, Tommy wound his arms around Adam’s neck, fingers finding the short hairs above the collar of his tunic. “We were willing, you know,” he said. “We’re solitary people, we take care of our own. We don’t care much who makes it across the mountain and who doesn’t.”

Adam nodded. While he might disagree with the attitude, he could accept that for people who lived as Tommy’s family did, survival did not come easily. For them, life was about taking opportunities when they presented themselves, not about following a strict moral code.

Tommy smiled a little ruefully. “Olivier had learned that my parents had guided a group of mountain people across the overpass a few years ago. He came and made a deal: passage across for a sum and supplies. The negotiations were settled.”

Here, Tommy fell silent, eyes dropping to his lap.“We honor our contracts, Adam, that you have to believe. We were ready to leave, waiting for his group to arrive, when he suddenly asked to make use of my sister.”

He glanced up when Adam’s hands tightened around him, probably leaving bruises. His face contorted into an expression that was possibly intended as a smile but never became more than a grimace.

“He thought we should be grateful for the offer he had made us. Hand my sister over like a piece of cattle because we owed him.”

He shook his head a little. “I can’t believe that, still,” he said, and Adam wanted so badly for Olivier to still be alive. To be alive so Adam could take it slow, this time.

Tommy’s fingers began gently petting Adam’s hair, though his eyes were far away. “After that… My father grew angry, my mother pulled her knives. They were both of them dead before I even realized what had happened.”

His fingers grew more insistent, almost painful, curling themselves tightly into Adam’s black shock of hair.

“Our parents were dead, and we were cornered, my sister and I. And he was going,” he hitched a breath, “to use her, and she was terrified, and she begged me, Adam, so I slit her throat before he could.”

Adam ran his palm slowly along Tommy’s spiny back while Tommy drew in a hitching breath and let it escape through almost closed lips.

“He was so angry. He cut me open,” one hand over the scar on his torso, “where he knew I would survive but be in agony every time I moved. And then he tied me down next to my parents’ broken bodies and the floor was sticky with my sister’s blood and he left me there to die of thirst or some predator, no matter how, as long as it was agonizingly painful.”

Tommy looked down at his open palms, clenched and unclenched his hands, before he turned his head to look at Adam. “Everything smelled of blood,” he said.

He leaned against Adam’s chest, apparently exhausted. After a moment, Adam rubbed his hand over Tommy’s back again.

“How did you survive?” he asked.

“I got loose,” Tommy murmured. “With a nail from the floorboards of our hut. I tracked them for days before I found them, and him, and I was going to put an arrow through the socket of his eye but he turned his head at the last minute and I only sliced open his cheek.”

His lips curved upwards, no more than a crook of his mouth. “I lost them after that. But I’ll never forget that look of horror on his face when he realized what had happened.”

He grinned, and Adam answered the expression with one of his own.

“I’m glad he’s out of our lives now,” he said.

Tommy inclined his head before laying it down to rest on Adam’s shoulder. Adam reached up to run his fingers through the hair tickling the skin at his collar, pushing it towards the crown of Tommy’s head only to watch it slowly droop back into form. Tommy grinned against his skin but didn’t attempt to stop him, and Adam took that as permission to wrap his arms around the slight body and draw patterns on the silky skin through his tunic with a fingernail.

"So tell me something," Tommy said after a moment.

Adam tightened his arms around him. "Anything," he said.

Tommy tilted his head at him. "Now that I'm properly one of the mountain people, and since I know perfectly well how to cross the mountain on my own," he said. "Where is that map, anyway?"

"That." Adam laughed. He pushed Tommy off his lap despite the protesting squawk and reached for the bottom hem of his shirt.

"What are you doing?" Tommy asked when Adam stripped the fabric from his body, but he fell silent when Adam turned around.

"That is. I can't even believe that," he said after a moment, and Adam grinned at him over his shoulder.

"Greymen would never think of something so simple," he said, and Tommy nodded, still speechless.

He took a hesitant step forward, then another, and laid his palm over the ink etched into the skin on Adam's back. "It's so simple," he said. "And yet so effective."

"No one has ever thought to look there," Adam agreed.

Tommy shook his head. "And to think we bathed together. Though looking back, I do recall you being oddly hesitant to turn your back to me."

"It pays to be cautious."

"That it does," Tommy agreed quietly. His forefinger trailed lightly along a long, thin line that Adam knew only from contorting his neck to peer over his own shoulder. "I can't believe this," he said again.

"I hope you don't mind," Adam said.

"Hardly." Tommy laughed. "You've seen the patterns on my arms. How could I complain about these few lines?"

“We all have them, you know,” Adam said over his shoulder. “Even Neil. I suppose that at least is a secret he managed to keep from his girl.”

Tommy didn’t respond, and Adam was about to say something more, anything really, when he felt Tommy’s body just inches from his own, and a pair of soft lips between his shoulder blades.

“Thank you,” Tommy said quietly. “For believing in me. For trusting me.”

Adam turned at that, caught Tommy’s hand in his when he tried to pull it away and sealed his lips over the pale skin at Tommy’s wrist.

“Will you trust me, in return?” he asked.

Tommy nodded, breath quickening, and allowed Adam to lead the way into the darkness of the mountain’s corridors.

The next full moon was not nearly as joyous an occasion as the last.

They buried the last of the dead that day, Greymen, thrown together in a hastily-dug grave to keep the animals from congregating so near to their home and travelers from noticing the felled bodies and alerting the townspeople. The last thing anyone wanted was more people encroaching on their already disturbed territory.

Adam dug until sweat stung his eyes despite the early winter chill. Despite everything, for the first time in days, he felt hope. They would lose no one else. The children had recovered, and anyone who would die of the wounds they had received while fighting had already done so.

Now, it was time to lay the past to rest. In a way, Adam was glad that it was full moon. Their feast was an opportunity to face what had happened, to bring back a degree of normalcy, to ring in a new chapter in their lives. It was a celebration, and mourning. They had to accept the loss of their dead and be thankful for those who had survived. It was time to move on, no matter how much it hurt.

And it hurt. Sometimes it hurt too much to breathe, when he turned and expected his father to stand behind him but he wasn’t there, when he thought of something to tell his mother before he remembered that he couldn’t, not ever again. The grief was palpable – they all felt it. Every member of his - _his_ \- kingdom had lost someone, a sibling or a friend or a child, and the loss had cut them deep.

And so it was no surprise that the mood was somber when nightfall came. There was conversation and mead flowing freely, hushed laughter, but no one was dancing tonight. Not yet. Adam had no doubt that they would, eventually, but for now, he sat on the throne carved into the rock, watching the serious faces around him. The Greymen had left their mark, there could be no doubt about that.

But life went on. Sure enough, someone called for dancers, and more mead, and it was as if they had only been waiting to be asked. Within moments, a space had been cleared and once again filled with people. Tommy and Allison where among them, whirling hand in hand, hair flying wildly.

Adam felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth. At least their moods would be good after tonight.

He felt more than saw Neil slide to his knees at Adam’s feet. He wore plain black tonight, a tunic, pants, and boots, and his cheeks were gaunt and his eyes hollow and sunken from several days of starving himself.

There were people, Adam knew, that thought Neil should be killed, or exiled. He, after all, had betrayed their secrets. His girl had merely done what she had to, to survive. But Adam knew it wasn’t Neil’s fault. He had made a mistake, and paid dearly for it, but it had been the Greymen who had slaughtered their parents and decimated their numbers. He had told Neil this, had made sure his brother understood that he held no grudge, but Neil was slower to forgive himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at his knees. “Adam, I am. You have to believe me.”

Adam nodded. He carded his fingers through Neil’s hair, thick and black like his own but curled tidily where Adam’s was wild. “The dead are dead,” he said. “And the living go on living.”

Neil nodded without meeting his gaze. He had barely spoken a word since he had been tasked with finding his girl, with convincing her to return to the mountain with him where she would be scorned and hated but would not be able to betray them further, or else silence her forever. The choice was not a kind one, and yet Neil had knelt and reverently kissed Adam's fingertips.

It had been decided that Neil would set out at first light, long before Adam rose from his post-feast slumber. Adam suspected that most would relish in the opportunity to lay curled in their warm blankets for a little longer. He had spotted Isaac and Sophia kissing in a dark alcove earlier and not seen them since, and Allison’s exuberant gestures while she whirled among the dancers suggested that she, too, would appreciate a slow start in the morning.  
Neil shifted on his knees, miserable, and Adam stroked his hand through his brother’s hair again. “Neil,” he said.

This time he waited until Neil met his gaze, until those dark, red-rimmed eyes settled on his.  
“You do not go in shame. You go as Prince of the Mountain.”

Neil nodded, once. “May I take my leave, my King?” he asked, and turned when Adam waved him away.

Adam watched him go, the tense line of his shoulders, his head held high. Neil had made mistakes, yes. He knew that, and he would never be able to forget it. But Neil was his brother, his friend, his confidante, and Adam would still miss him.

He startled when Tommy suddenly fell into his arms, pushing away from the crowd of dancers.

“Hello,” Tommy said, grinning wildly.

“Hey,” Adam replied, stroking over Tommy’s cheek just to see that smile stretch into something wider, something genuinely pleased. “Having a good time?”

Tommy nodded. “But you’re not, are you?” he asked. “You’re thinking about Neil, aren’t you?”

“Neil, and his girl.” Adam shrugged. “Maybe he’ll bring her back.”

“Do you want him to?”

Adam shook his head, slowly. “I’m just tired of people dying.”

“You realize, of course, that her life will not be a pleasant one?” Tommy asked. He slid his arm around Adam’s neck and his legs over Adam’s lap. “No matter how she decides. Even if Neil convinces her to return with him, she’ll not have it easy here. She won’t be forgiven.”

“They’ll forget,” Adam said. “We move on. That’s what we do.” He smiled, even though the anger he felt burning through his veins at the thought of his parents’ pointless deaths made him a liar.

Tommy smiled, obviously not fooled in the slightest. “If you say so, my Lord.”

“I say so.” Expression fading, Adam let his palm rest lightly over Tommy’s side, where his playful tunic bunched over a thick layer of bandages.

Tommy’s lips curled into a smile. “I’m fine, my Prince,” he said. “As you well know.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Adam said, leaning in to press a kiss to the fabric before finding Tommy’s mouth as well.

Tommy grinned at him, short and full of life, before sliding down to lightly perch between Adam’s feet, leaning his back against one calf and curling his hands around the other. He turned his head to kiss the inside of Adam’s knee before his eyes found Adam’s once again.

“Comfortable, are you?” Adam asked him.

Tommy nodded.

Adam shook his head. “If I didn’t know better, I would assume you were staking your claim.”

Tommy shrugged. Then he grinned, no more than a flash of teeth, and sat up a little straighter. “Before I forget.”

Adam raised his eyebrows at him.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “I pledge my allegiance, my Lord,” he said, smiling impishly, before he turned his head and pressed another kiss to the fabric covering Adam’s thigh.

“I accept,” Adam said evenly, though his heart was beating so loud he was sure everyone could hear it even above the pounding of the drums.

Things had changed. In no more than a full circle of the moon, Adam had returned home, found a companion, lost his parents, and become the king of his people. Good people had died, and bad people had lived. His brother would be leaving him tomorrow, perhaps never to return.  
But that was the way of the world. There was nothing unchanging, nothing static. Things lived and died and built up and fell apart.

But they were still alive. They were here, damaged and broken, but they had survived. They would keep on surviving. In the end, the attack had only made them stronger, and the spirits help the Greymen if they ever tried to face them down again.

They were stronger now. _Adam_ was stronger now. He had his people, his advisors, his companion, and he had a brother out there who would not rest until he had brought everything to rights. He had the mountain at his back.

That was all that mattered. After all, everything was dependent on the trust of some, and the betrayal of others, and the goodwill of the mountain.

 

The End


End file.
